Wm 

^i  ivd 


«  g 


i  I 


?«     £? 


1  g 

1  3 

30  2 

^  "i 


HiTlilinl 


J? 
^ 


£     s 

^       %*Jl   IE    % 

•/J  i  ywuo'-  r.v>-  /^  ,  ys<«qo 


I  % 


fr        ^ 


I  ! 

£  t 


t  ^ 

S     85 


I  g 


o 

'//rvn '  n>-~>  v 


bl  V   I    M 

I    1 


awuon  'iOkV  y/i 


II 


^-LIBRARY 


%    S 


\    S 

I    I 
-8    \ 


I      I 


^FMWfc 


^        ^ 


,^-lOS-ANCEl%          ^-UBRARY 


, 

ide! 


1 1 


s% 


I  I 


i  i 


$   % 


J»         "5 

-^ 


±         c± 

03  «J 

5       5 


^ 


g   3 


,tf -LIBRARY^ 


£     1 


'\     * 


g  I 

=.  i 

S    s 


\   * 


I  i 
i  s 


~~ 


WONDER    TALES 
OF    ANCIENT    WALES. 


LLEW 

''The   room   was    full    of   the    Tylwyth    Teg,    dancing    and    jigging 
all   over  the  leather  shavings."     (p.  5) 


OF 


BY 

BERNARD    HENDERSON 

AND 

STEPHEN     JONES. 

With     Eight     Illustrations    by 
DORIS     WILLIAMSON. 


BOSTON 

SMALL,    MAYNARD    &    COMPANY, 
PUBLISHERS. 


PRINTED     IN    GREAT    BRITAIN. 


PREFACE. 


The  Stories  in  this  book  are  told  entirely 
in  our  own  words  and  according  to  our  own 
methods,  and  we  believe  that  a  large  proportion 
of  them  have  not  appeared  hitherto  in  an  English 
garb.  One  of  them,  namely,  "  Llew,"  has  never 
been  seen  before  in  any  attire,  for  it  is  new-born. 

We  went  to  Welsh  literature,  and,  having 
borrowed  the  underlying  ideas  of  certain  attractive 
stories,  we  placed  them,  so  far  as  language  is 
concerned,  in  an  English  setting,  which,  allowing 
for  difference  of  idiom  and  word,  represents 
sufficiently  the  sentiment  and  colour  of  the  Welsh 
original.  It  follows,  therefore,  that  the  reader  may 


548629 

LISRARf 


at  times  possess  what  is  practically  a  direct 
translation,  or  again,  it  may  be  that  he  is  perusing 
what  our  imagination  has  supplied  to  heighten 
effect  or  fill  out  a  slender  outline. 

Our  earnest  hope  is  that  the  result  of  our 
joint  labour — this  Welsh  spirit  speaking  through 
an  English  voice — will  win  the  benison  both  of 
the  critic  and  of  the  general  public. 

The  pronunciation  and  meaning  of  the  proper 
names  are  indicated  phonetically  in  marginal  notes, 
and  the  syllable  to  be  stressed  is  usually  marked 
by  an  acute  (x)  accent.  '  u  '  is  always  pronounced 
like  the  '  oo '  in  'pool/  and  '  dd '  like  the  'th' 
in  'this.'  'Oi'  is  a  diphthong,  and  the  short  (u) 
and  long  (-)  marks  indicate  the  volume  of  the 
vowels. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Llew    -  ....  1 

Bwca'r  Trwyn  12 

The  Sea-Maiden  24 

Owain  of  Drws  Coed              -  -         39 

Llyn  Tegid      -  -                      50 

Dafydd  Meurig                          -  -                      62 

Elfod  the  Priest  76 

The  Wyvern    -  87 

Meredydd  -       103 

The  Strand  of  the  Bitter  Cry  -       113 

Idwal  of  Nant  Clwyd  -       138 

Modred  the  Druid      -            -  -             -       148 

Einon  and  Olwen       -             -  -             -       158 


A     LIST    OF    THE     DRAWINGS. 


Llew   -                         -  -     Frontispiece 

Bwca'r  Trwyn  -            -            Page  16 

Owain  of  Drws  Coed  -               ,,48 

Dafydd  Meurig  •               ,,72 

The  Wyvern  -  „    100 

The  Strand  of  the  Bitter  Cry  „    136 

Idwal  of  Nant  Clwyd  „    144 

Einon  and  Olwen      -  -            -                    164 


LLEW. 

ONG,  long  ago,  in  the  village  of 
Pennant,  there  lived  two  very  poor 
people  who  had  one  little  boy  named 
Llew.  They  were  so  poor  that  Llew 
had  to  feed  on  the  coarsest  food,  and  he  wore  scarcely 
any  clothes  at  all.  But  that  did  not  trouble  him.  He 
was  as  happy  as  the  day  is  long,  and  in  the  warm 
summer  time  he  tumbled  about  amongst  the  rich  hay, 
while  in  winter  he  rolled  in  the  snow,  or  perhaps 
climbed  the  tall  trees  to  keep  himself  warm. 

One  golden  summer  morning,  as  he  was  pushing 
along  through  a  big  swathe  of  hay,  he  came  to  a  place 
where  a  circle  of  rich  grass  grew,  under  the  stems 
that  had  fallen  before  the  mowers'  scythes.  His 


Lieu, 
lion. 


2  WONDER  TALES. 

eyes  lit  upon  a  tiny  old  man,  whose  clothing 
had  got  entangled  in  some  thorns.  He  was  the 
quaintest  little  thing  Llew  had  ever  seen.  His  coat 
was  blue;  and  he  wore  a  curious  cap  fashioned  out 
of  skins,  while  his  legs  were  enclosed  in  trousers 
which  also  covered  his  feet  and  came  out  to  a  point 
at  his  toes.  Sad,  blinding  tears  were  trickling 
down  his  face,  his  mouth  was  puckered  into 
sorrowful  lines,  and  his  snowy  beard  lay  in  confusion 
over  his  shoulders.  Yet  his  face  was  kind,  and  the 
boy  felt  not  the  slightest  fear. 

"  Hullo!  "  said  Llew.     "  Who  are  you?  " 

"  Oh!  please  set  me  free,"  cried  the  little  old 
man. 

"  Of  course  I  will!  "  replied  Llew,  who  was  a 
kind  little  fellow.  "  But  what's  your  name?  " 

As  he  said  this  he  gently  picked  the  thorns  away 
from  the  little  man's  coat  till  he  was  quite  at  liberty. 

"  Thank  you,  Llew,"  he  said;  and  sat  down  on 
a  wisp  of  hay.  "  Now  you  want  to  know  my  name, 
and  who  I  am?  Well,  I'm  one  of  a  large  family 
called  the  Tylwyth  Teg.  We  live  somewhere  not 
far  from  here,  and  we  love  all  people  who  are  kind, 
and  hate  those  who  are  cruel,  and  since  there  is 
kindness  in  your  heart  so  that  you  have  done  me  good 


LLEW.  3 

service,  whenever  you  may  chance  to  be  in  trouble, 
sing  to  us,  and  my  kith  and  kin  will  be  sure  to  try  to 
help  you."  And,  when  he  had  spoken,  he  sang  a 
sweet,  abiding  tune  which  sank  into  the  lad's  heart 
as  the  song  of  the  thrush  gladdens  the  traveller  in  the 

early  springtide. 

"  Little  lad,  my  little  lad, 

Sing  for  your  friend, 
When  your  heart  is  very  sad, 

My  help  I'll  send. 
And  wheresoever  you  may  be, 
When  you  sing  your  friend  you'll  see." 

And  lo !  when  the  song  was  sung  he  vanished,  and 
the  boy  could  no  longer  see  him.  Yet  it  seemed  to 
him  that  music  still  stole  in  sweet  melody  around 
the  circle  of  rich  grass.  He  went  to  his  home 
humming  the  tune  softly  to  himself. 

Very  soon  afterwards  poverty  fell  even  more 
bitterly  upon  the  poor  parents,  and  they  had  to  send 
their  little  boy  away  to  earn  his  living.  They  put 
him  with  a  shoemaker,  who  lived  in  a  town  a  long 
way  off,  for  they  thought  that  if  Llew  learned  how 
to  make  boots  and  shoes  he  might  earn  bread  for 
himself  in  the  coming  years. 

And  now  the  poor  boy  had  a  most  unhappy  time. 
His  master  was  harsh  and  cruel  as  the  sharp 
east  wind,  and  beat  his  miserable  little  servant 


4  WONDER  TALES. 

unmercifully ;  and,  though  the  boy  tried  his  hardest, 
he  could  not  do  anything  to  please  the  man.  Indeed, 
the  more  he  tried  to  please  him  the  more  heavily  the 
cruel  blows  fell.  It  takes  a  very  long  time  to  learn 
to  make  boots  and  shoes,  and  Llew's  master,  who 
was  far  from  being  a  clever  man  himself,  seemed  to 
think  that  his  young  servant  ought  to  acquire  the 
skill  quite  easily.  Yes,  and  dull  people  are  often 
very  unfair,  for  they  lack  the  knowledge  which,  like 
a  key,  opens  the  door  to  another's  heart. 

One  day  this  dull  creature  had  gone  out,  leaving 
Llew  a  great  deal  of  work  to  do,  and  he  told  him  that 
if  it  were  not  all  finished  by  the  time  he  came  back 
he  would  beat  him  severely. 

"  And  this  time,  my  boy,  you  shall  be  black  and 
blue  all  over." 

Poor  little  Llew  I 

The  salt  tears  would  come,  in  spite  of  his  efforts 
to  be  brave  and  do  his  work,  and  they  fell  like  the 
rain  which  comes  from  the  dark,  heavy  clouds  of  the 
west.  Then  his  sad  thoughts  travelled  to  the  warm 
summer  fields.  He  seemed  to  see  the  gentle  sunshine 
kissing  the  delicate  leaves  as  they  tossed  merrily  on 
the  passing  breeze;  he  heard  the  silvery  stream 
bickering  over  the  rounded  stones,  and,  almost 


LLEW.  5 

without  knowing  what  words  his  lips  were  framing, 
he  sang  from  his  heart  these  words  of  the  Tylwyth 

Teg:- 

"  Tiny  folk  as  fair  as  down ! 

Llew's  heart  is  sad. 
Quit  the  country,  seek  the  town, 

And  make  me  glad. 
Come  and  sing  a  merry  lay, 
Where  you  dance  there's  no  dismay." 

Then  lo!  before  the  last  words  had  left  his 
trembling  lips,  truly  a  strange  sight  passed  before  his 
wondering  eyes,  and  he  seemed  to  be  in  a  strange 
place  rather  than  in  the  dirt-stained  workroom  of 
the  harsh  shoemaker.  The  room  was  full  of  the 
Tylwyth  Teg,  dancing  and  jigging  over  the  leather 
shavings.  Gleefully  they  climbed  up  the  bench  and 
twinkled  in  merry  sport  in  and  out  among  the  old 
tools.  In  appearance  they  were  all  so  much  alike 
that  he  could  not  be  certain  which  was  his  special 
friend,  until  he  came  up,  and,  in  a  soft  and 
comforting  voice  said,  "  Why  didn't  you  sing 
before?  We  cannot  come  unless  you  sing."  Then, 
before  Llew  could  reply,  the  tiny  man  had  skipped 
away  and  was  hard  at  work  with  his  comrades. 
Their  little  hands  sped  like  the  shuttle  in  the  loom, 
and  their  voices  rose  merrily  as  the  song  of  a  bird  in 
a  grove  when  the  daylight  has  driven  dark  night 


6  WONDER  TALES. 

over  the  edge  of  the  world.  How  they  worked !  and 
how  they  sang !  Before  a  hungry  horse  could  eat  a 
nosebagful  of  oats  all  the  work  was  done,  and  in 
such  a  way  as  no  shoemaker  on  earth  could  do  it. 

M  Now,"  said  the  chief  of  the  Tylwyth  Teg,  a 
merry,  blue-eyed  old  fellow  with  a  smile  like  the 
mellow  autumn,  "  that's  all  right  for  the  present; 
but,  my  lad,  you  must  be  taught  to  work  like  this 
yourself.  We  will  show  you!  "  Thereupon  they 
seized  his  fingers,  and  beneath  their  gentle  guidance 
he  soon  found  himself  working  almost  as  skilfully 
as  they  did.  "  Good!  Very  good!  "  they  cried, 
and  wagged  their  heads  in  knowing  manner. 

Then  from  the  village  street  there  came  the 
noise  of  a  rambling  footstep,  and  a  heavy  tread  was 
heard  coming  along  the  stone  passage.  The  tiny 
folk  vanished  as  wonderfully  as  they  had  come. 
Llew's  master  flung  open  the  door  and  burst  into  the 
room. 

"  Now  then!  "  he  said  in  drunken  hoarseness, 
picking  up  a  strap  as  he  spoke,  "  I'll  show  you!  " 

Even  as  he  spoke  his  glance  fell  upon  four 
beautiful  pairs  of  shoes  lying  finished  on  the  bench. 

"  What !  "  he  gasped.  "  You  didn't But 

you  must  have!  Good  gracious!  "  and  he  dropped 


LLEW.  7 

the  strap   from   his  coarse,    dirty   fingers. 

After  this  Llew's  master  grew  to  be  the  richest 
man  in  the  town;  but  he  never  thanked  Llew.  His 
gratitude  lay  locked  in  his  heart  as  the  water  is 
gripped  by  winter's  frost.  Rather  he  was  harder 
than  ever,  and  the  little  fellow's  heart  was  often 
downcast.  But  the  people  of  the  town  said  that  the 
shoemaker  had  never  made  such  boots  before  Llew 
came;  and  they  loved  the  boy,  and  were  very  kind 
to  him. 

Now  it  chanced  one  day  that  the  king  of  that 
realm  went  hunting  the  wild  creatures  that  lived  in 
the  woods  near  the  town  where  Llew  dwelt,  and, 
while  he  was  riding  in  much  haste,  he  fell  and  tore 
his  riding-boots,  so  that  he  came  into  town  and  asked 
for  a  shoemaker.  The  townsfolk  led  him  to  Llew's 
master,  for  they  explained  to  the  king  that  he  would 
find  at  that  shop  such  boots  as  even  a  king  might 
wear.  As  the  king  entered  the  shop  the  man  bowed 
low,  and  when  he  had  received  the  royal  order  he 
smiled  in  cunning  wise,  and  then  went  out.  Coming 
to  the  low  shed  where  the  poor  boy  sat  bravely  at  his 
work,  he  struck  him  violently,  and  shouted  : 

' '  Now  then,  set  to  work  and  let  me  have  the  best 
boots  you  can  make." 


8  WONDER  TALES. 

Then  he  stood  and  waited  till  Llew  had  finished, 
and  in  eager  haste  carried  them  back  himself. 
Placing  before  the  king  the  boots,  which  were  perfect 
in  size  and  workmanship,  he  said  humbly  : 

"  There  they  are,  your  Majesty,"  and  knelt 
in  lowly  reverence  upon  the  floor. 

When  he  saw  the  boots,  the  king  was  lost  in 
astonishment,  and  exclaimed : 

"  Well,  you  are  the  cleverest  workman  I  have 
ever  seen !  But  stay !  Did  you  make  them 
yourself?  " 

Then  the  shoemaker  made  answer,  "  Yes,  sire; 

I "  but  lo!  there  burst  from  his  lips  an  awful 

scream,  and  in  great  haste  he  put  his  hand  down  to 
his  leg.  For  all  unseen  one  of  the  Tylwyth  Teg, 
hearing  the  false  words,  had  run  a  long  sharp  needle 
right  through  his  stocking  into  his  stubborn  flesh. 
But  the  shoemaker,  feeling  the  bewildered  glance  of 
the  king  was  upon  him,  made  haste  to  recover  him- 
self, and  said,  "  I  crave  your  Majesty's  pardon. 

Yes,  indeed,  sire,  I  made "  There  came  an 

agonising  scream,  vastly  louder  than  before,  and  he 
yelled  and  danced  in  prolonged  agony. 

"  Come  now!  "  said  the  king  growing 
suspicious,  "  did  you  really  make  them  yourself?  " 


LLEW.  9 

Then  the  shoemaker,  in  dread  of  another  agony, 
did  not  again  attempt  to  deceive,  but  went  in  shame 
and  anger,  and  bringing  Llew  presented  him  to  the 
king,  who  was  astonished  to  find  so  young  a  boy  so 
clever  a  craftsman.  He  left  orders  that  Llew  was  to 
go  and  dwell  at  the  palace,  and  be  shoemaker  to  the 
royal  family. 

Then  the  lad  remembered  the  old  folks  at  home 
and  sent  them  gifts  from  his  abundance.  Often  as 
he  lay  in  his  soft,  warm  bed,  there  would  come  in  the 
stillness  of  the  night  a  tiny  voice  which  sang  in 
his  ear  : — 

"  Little  Llew,  you  shall  be  King! 

Some  day,  some  day, 
You  must  make  a  fairy  ring 

Where  we  can  play, 
In  the  night  when  watch  dogs  sleep, 
And  the  stars  all  silent  creep. 

Near  your  palace  build  a  wall 

Round  gardens  bright; 
Plant  the  foxgloves  gay  and  tall, 

The  hemlock  white, 
Willow  herb  and  crane-bill's  lance — 
Where  the  Tylwyth  Teg  may  dance." 

And,  when  several  years  had  rolled  away  over  the 
distant  mountains,  and  dropped  silently  into  the 
mist  beyond  the  ocean,  the  words  of  the  song  were 
fulfilled. 


10  WONDER  TALES. 

In  time  the  king  of  the  realm  went  to  war. 
' '  Make  yourself  a  pair  of  shoes  as  fast  as  the  wind, ' ' 
was  whispered  to  Llew,  "  and  stand  forth  as  the 
king's  messenger."  The  tiny  folk  gave  him  a 
wonderful  coat  wrought  skilfully  of  gossamer  thread 
so  that  none  might  see  him  when  he  wore  it.  Hither 
and  thither  sped  Llew  through  the  ways  of  war, 
gathering  news  for  the  king.  Unseen  he  passed 
through  the  enemy's  camp,  learned  their  plans  as 
they  framed  them  in  secrecy,  and  bore  the  tidings  to 
his  royal  master.  When  red  blood  had  ceased  to 
flow,  and  the  dogs  of  war  fled  speedily  from  the  land, 
the  king  rode  in  triumph  to  his  palace,  and  made 
Llew  his  chief  minister;  but,  honoured  with  titles, 
and  dignified  with  rank,  the  youth  still  won  every- 
body's love  by  his  kindness  and  thoughtfulness. 
Among  others,  who  loved  him  was  the  king's  fair 
daughter,  and  after  a  time  they  were  joined  in 
wedlock.  So,  when  the  old  king  passed  away  to  his 
forefathers  and  lay  silent  in  death's  long  sleep, 
Llew  reigned  in  his  stead. 

But  he  always  remembered  the  gentle  kindness  of 
the  Tylwyth  Teg.  Outside  his  palace  there  was  a 
beautiful  garden,  stocked  with  fragrant  roses  and 
all  the  fair  flowers  that  grow  in  the  meadows,  or  by 


LLEW. 


11 


the  river-side.  Silvery  fountains  leapt  gleaming 
and  sparkling  in  the  rays  of  the  sun,  and  little 
murmuring  streams  flowed  merrily  along.  People 
said  that  sometimes  when  the  moon  was  silver  bright, 
if  any  one  peeped  over  the  wall  of  that  garden  there 
might  be  seen  a  band  of  many  little  folk,  dancing 
hand  in  hand  through  the  drops  that  fell  glittering 
in  the  moonlight. 

When  Llew  heard  this  he  smiled.      Perhaps  it 
was  true.     What  do  you  think  about  it? 


BWCA'R   TRWYN 
or 

THE    BIG-NOSED    BOGIE. 

HERE  he  came  from  nobody  knew,  but 
there  he  was  without  any  doubt. 
When  the  farm  servants  met  together 
round  the  nut-brown  ale  of  a  Saturday 
night,  each  one  had  strange  tales  to  tell  of  what  had 
happened  during  the  week.  One  man  told  how 
somebody  had  pinched  him  on  the  back  of  the  neck, 
and  on  turning  round  to  see  who  it  was,  lo !  there  was 
empty  air  and  a  mocking  laugh.  A  maid  had  heard 
a  terrible  noise  in  the  cowhouse,  and,  rushing  to  see 
what  it  was,  she  just  caught  sight  of  a  brown,  hairy 
hand  disappearing  through  a  chink  in  the  opposite 
wall;  and  so  the  tales  went  on.  But  one  girl  never 


Buka  r  truin, 
bogey  of  the 
nose. 


BWCA'R   TRWYN.  13 

said  a  word.     She  simply  sat  mum.     The  other  folk 

glanced  at  her  from  time  to  time  in  a  meaning  sort  of 

way;  but  she  took  no  notice.      She  was,  indeed,  a 

very  strange  sort  of  girl.     Her  name  was  Mari,  and   Modrib  Mari, 

they  called  her  Modryb  Mari. 

No  one  knew  anything  at  all  about  Mari  save  that 
the  mistress  had  bought  her  at  the  fair,  and  people 
said  that  she  was  one  of  the  Bendith  y  Mamau.  Bendithe 
Before  she  had  come  to  the  farm  everything  had  1^™^^ 
gone  on  in  quite  an  ordinary  way;  but  from  the  the  mothers- 
moment  of  her  arrival  these  strange  things  began 
to  happen.  A  cow  had  spoken  like  a  man.  The 
Sunday  cake  had  a  big  stone  in  the  middle  of  it,  and 
the  stockings  of  the  farmer's  wife  were  always  found 
in  the  morning  tied  in  a  knot.  People  said  that 
when  the  house  was  quiet  at  night  time  a  sturdy 
goblin  used  to  come,  and,  stretched  out  full  length, 
bask  himself  to  sleep  before  the  fire.  In  the  morning, 
after  drinking  up  the  remainder  of  the  milk,  he 
popped  out  of  doors  before  anyone  could  catch  him. 
And,  somehow  or  other,  all  these  things  were  put 
down  to  Modryb  Mari. 

Well,  the  truth  of  the  whole  matter  was  that 
Mari  and  the  goblin  were  capital  friends,  and  quite 
understood  each  other.  No  maid  on  the  farm 


14  WONDER  TALES. 

worked  less  than  Mari,  and  yet  no  one  did  more 
than  she.  This  was  because  she  understood  the 
goblin  so  well.  For  he  was  the  cleverest  goblin  the 
world  has  ever  known,  although  no  one  realised  at 
the  time  that  he  had  such  a  huge  nose.  That  was 
discovered  much  later  on ;  but  we  shall  find  out  about 
his  nose  in  due  course.  Mari  understood  all  about 
his  cleverness  long  before  she  came  to  the  farm. 
They  were  old  friends;  and  but  for  Mari's 
foolishness  might  have  remained  so  to  the  end  of 
the  chapter.  That  is  really  the  worst  thing  about 
women  all  the  world  over.  They  are  too  inquisitive, 
and  too  much  inclined  to  be  rather  hard  on  their 
best  friends.  At  any  rate  so  it  was  with  Mari. 

This  goblin  could  turn  his  hand  to  anything. 
He  washed  the  clothes  for  Mari,  and  they  looked 
as  white  as  driven  snow.  He  ironed,  and  the  linen 
was  never  so  much  as  scorched.  He  span  wool  and 
twisted  it  into  skeins;  his  work  at  the  spinning 
wheel  was  wonderful.  The  wheel  flew  round  at  a 
furious  rate  and  the  thread  never  snapped  while  he 
was  spinning.  Bwca  did  all  this  work  and  much 
more  besides — dusting,  washing  up,  milking — there 
was  no  end  to  all  his  cleverness;  and  he  did  it  all 
for  Mari. 


BWCA'R  TRWYN.  15 

But  goblins,  like  human  beings,  must  be 
rewarded  for  their  toil.  Even  an  honest  man  will 
look  out  anxiously  for  pay-day,  and  Bwca  liked  a 
pay-day  every  day,  for  he  had  a  weakness,  a  most 
decided  weakness,  for  bread  and  milk.  It  is  true 
that  cream  was  a  great  favourite  of  his,  especially 
the  top-skimming ;  but  bread  and  milk  was  the  real 
stuff  for  him.  He  liked  it  warm  with  some  sugar. 
That  was  all  the  wages  Bwca  desired ;  and  that  was 
all  Mari  gave  him.  Each  night  as  she  went  up  to 
bed  she  placed  the  bowl  of  bread  and  milk  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs  for  him  to  come  and  fetch  when  he  was 
ready.  This  had  gone  on  for  such  a  time  it  was 
no  wonder  that  the  other  servants  looked  askance, 
or  that  strange  things  happened  when  Mari  came 
to  the  farm. 

Now  if  Mari  had  been  wise  she  would  have 
raised  Bwca's  wages  rather  than  have  tried  to  cheat 
the  poor  goblin  out  of  his  bread  and  milk.  But,  as 
you  have  heard,  she  was  too  inquisitive;  and  this 
was  the  reason.  Never  since  they  had  been  partners 
had  she  seen  this  hard-working  goblin,  never  once. 
She  left  the  full  bowl  by  the  stairs  at  night ;  and  she 
picked  it  up  empty  in  the  morning.  All  the  work 
that  had  to  be  done  stood  waiting  in  the  kitchen, 


16  WONDER  TALES. 

and,  sure  enough,  next  morning  the  wool  was  spun 
and  twisted,  or  the  sewing  finished.  Sometimes 
she  said,  "  Bwca,  what  are  you  like  to  look  at?  " 
And  then  Bwca  used  to  go  away  without  giving 
any  reply. 

So  one  sad  night,  after  such  a  disappearance, 
Mari,  out  of  mere  spite,  put  in  the  bowl  some  brine 
in  which  a  ham  had  been  soaking  for  a  week,  and 
left  the  brew  for  Bwca's  supper.  Foolish  maid  that 
she  was,  for  dire  and  lasting  trouble  came  speedily 
upon  her.  At  the  first  mouthful  by  the  kitchen  fire 
Bwca's  face  had  twisted  in  all  directions  at  once,  and 
his  furry,  pointed  ears  had  stuck  up  as  straight  as  a 
dog's  tail.  "  Faugh !  ugh !  p-p-pla !  "  he  said,  and 
dashed  the  bowl  to  the  ground  in  fury.  Then  he 
stood  behind  the  kitchen  door,  and  never  budged 
all  night. 

In  the  morning  down  came  Mari.  No  empty 
bowl  by  the  stairs ;  dust  on  the  floor ;  and  through  the 
open  door  of  the  scullery  a  vision  of  last  night's 
supper  things  still  unwashed!  She  turned  the 
handle  of  the  kitchen  door  in  haste,  when  oh !  what 
a  terrible  trouble  came  upon  her  The  goblin  was 
waiting  there  patiently.  He  sprang  out,  seized  her 
by  the  scruff  of  her  neck,  and  screamed  in  anger  : 


BWCA'E     TEWYN 

"Each  night  as  she  went  up  to  bed  she  placed  the  bowl  of  bread 
and  milk  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  for  him." 


BWCA'R  TRWYN.  17 

"  To  think  of  your  giving  me  brine  instead  of 
my  bread  and  milk!  After  all  that  I  have  done 
for  you  !  You  hoi  den !  You  wretched  gipsy  !  I'll 
twist  your  neck  for  you !  No  more  sticks  I'll  fetch 
for  firing!  Brine!  The  Idea  of  it !"  So  he 
went  on,  and  as  he  spoke  he  kicked,  and  as  he  kicked 
he  pinched  and  scratched. 

With  her  hands  over  her  ears  to  shut  out  the 
din  and  ward  off  the  blows  Mari  ran  from  the  room 
shrieking  for  help.  And  after  her  went  Bwca, 
kicking,  raving,  and  red  with  anger. 

"  Help!  help!  "  cried  the  wretched  girl. 

"  I'll  make  you  call  for  help,"  screamed  Bwca, 
and  flung  himself  upon  her  shoulders  and  hammered 
away  with  his  fists. 

After  some  time  Mari's  cries  woke  up  the  other 
servants;  they  came  rushing  down  stairs,  pell  mell, 
to  find  Mari  sitting  on  the  floor,  her  face  black  and 
blue  and  scratched  miserably,  her  hair  (such  as 
was  left)  twisted  almost  out  of  her  head.  Bwca 
had  gone,  and  no  one  at  the  farm  ever  saw  him 
again. 

But  Bwca  had  to  live — even  goblins  must  eat; 
and  for  two  years  people  in  the  neighbourhood 
missed  things.  Food  disappeared  at  night :  Now 

c 


18  WONDEE  TALES. 

it  was  cheese;  now  a  roasted  fowl;  another  time  a 

dish  of  custard;  and  suspicion  always  pointed  its 

finger  at  the  poor  Elf.     Then  it  would  seem  that  he 

went  to  live  at  Hafod  yr  Ynys,  where  he  struck  up  Havoderinn 

a  warm  friendship  with  Eilian  Elis.     Eilian  was  dwelling 

crafty,  for  she  knew  all  about  Mari's  misfortune,  of  the  island. 

So  she  fed  the  little  goblin  as  though  he  were  a 

turkey  cock.      Warm  bread  and  milk  never  failed 

him,  and  sometimes  there  was  a  piece  of  butter  and 

some  treacle.     Other  tit-bits  came  as  well,  so  life 

was  paradise  for  Bwca.     He  span  wool,  he  wound 

yarn,  and  the  spinning  wheel  worked  so  swiftly  that 

if  it  had  not  been  a  first-class  piece  of  machinery  it 

would  have  been  torn  to  pieces.     No  brine  for  Bwca 

at  Hafod  yr  Ynys.     Not  so !  but  the  fat  of  the  land, 

milk  and  honey,  and  the  first  cut  from  the  joint. 

Yet  affliction  came  to  him  even  there. 

It  came  in  this  manner  : 

"  What  is  your  name,  dear?  "  asked  Eilian  Elis 
one  day. 

"  Never  you  mind  that,"  quoth  Bwca.    "  That's 
my  affair." 

"  But,  sweetheart,  do  tell  me,"  said  Eilian. 

"  I  will  not,"  said  Bwca. 

"  Not  if  I  give  you  a  basin  of  bread  and  milk 


BWCA'R  TRWYN.  19 

twice  as  large  for  your  supper,  Lovey?  " 

' '  Not  if  you  give  me  everything !  ' '  was  the 
reply. 

Then  Eilian,  with  the  cunning  of  her  sex,  took 
refuge  in  artfulness.  One  evening  as  the  men  and 
maids  went  out,  and  Bwca  took  up  his  task  at  the 
spinning  wheel,  she  made  as  though  she  were  going 
out  also,  and  banging  the  kitchen  door,  stood  in 
silence  outside.  As  he  began  to  spin,  he  sang  in  a 
low,  deep  voice  a  sort  of  chant : 

"  The  maid  would  laugh  could  she  but  win 
To  know  my  name  is  Bwca'r  Trwyn." 

Open  flew  the  door,  and  from  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  the  stupid  Eilian  shrilled  out : 

"  Well!  Bwca'r  Trwyn!  What  a  name  to  be 
sure!  " 

There  was  a  crash,  a  howl  of  pain,  and  Bwca 
had  gone  for  ever  from  Hafod  yr  Ynys.  The 
spinning-wheel  was  smashed  to  atoms. 

The  world  was  not  kind  to  poor  Trwyn,  was  it  ? 
But  worse  was  to  follow.  For  a  time  he  companied 
with  Evan,  a  serving  man  at  a  farm  not  very  far 
away,  and  did  him  many  a  good  turn  till  Evan  had 
to  go  away  to  fight  against  Richard  Crookback. 
Sad  to  tell,  he  was  killed  on  Bosworth  Field,  and, 


20  WONDER  TALES. 

as  his  friend  did  not  return,  Bwca  began  to  be  a 
mischance  to  the  farmer.  Sometimes  when  the 
oxen  were  ploughing  an  unseen  hand  would  turn 
them  round  in  the  middle  of  the  field.  The  cows 
trod  in  the  milk  pail;  the  bee-hive  was  overturned; 
two  cows  were  found  with  their  tails  knotted 
together;  the  milkmaid  dared  not  go  alone  to  the 
milking-shed ;  a  calf  was  born  with  three  eyes. 
Pranks  and  mischief  never  ceased,  until  the  farmer 
waxed  desperate  and  determined  to  ask  help  of  the 
priest  from  the  village  in  the  valley.  The  priest 
asked  many  questions :  Had  anyone  seen  the 
goblin?  How  long  had  this  mischief  continued? 
Had  he  ever  injured  anyone?  Did  he  ever  speak? 
When  the  priest  had  learned  all  he  could,  he  arose 
with  a  very  grave  look  on  his  face.  Taking  his 
candle,  his  bell,  and  his  book  he  motioned  to  the 
farmer  to  lead  the  way  to  the  farm. 

When  they  drew  near  the  farm,  the  moon  was 
shining  at  the  full  and  the  night  was  very  warm, 
for  it  was  Midsummer  Eve.  Just  as  they  entered 
the  house  a  long,  low,  cunning  laugh  was  heard  from 
the  store  cupboard.  It  was  the  laugh  of  one  who 
has  found  what  he  has  long  been  seeking,  and, 
having  found,  is  full  of  contentment.  So  they  went 


BWCA'R  TRWYN.  21 

on  tiptoe  and  looked  in  through  the  keyhole.  The 
goblin  was  sitting  on  a  shelf,  with  a  bowl  of  bread 
and  milk  on  his  knees,  gulping  down  great, 
dripping,  greedy  handfuls,  while  the  milk  was 
trickling  down  his  hairy  chin. 

"  Lock  the  door !  "  whispered  the  priest,  and  the 
farmer  obeyed. 

"Now  we  have  him,"  whispered  the  priest; 
"  but,  before  I  begin,  fetch  an  awl." 

So  the  farmer  fetched  one.  Then  the  priest,  in 
deep,  commanding  accents,  began  to  read,  and,  as  he 
read,  he  rang  his  bell  in  steady,  slow  movement. 
There  was  a  sound  of  scuffling  in  the  pantry, 
followed  by  a  hard  push  at  the  door.  But  still  the 
good  priest  read  steadily  the  glorious  words  of  his 
holy  book,  and  never  ceased  ringing  his  bell,  while 
the  farmer  held  the  candle  for  him  to  see  what  was 
written.  A  howl  came  from  within,  and  dishes  were 
dashed  on  the  ground.  The  farmer  could  distinctly 
hear  the  big  milk  jug  fall  crashing  to  the  floor. 

"  Let  me  out,"  screamed  Bwca'r  Trwyn. 

But  the  priest  went  on  reading.  The  noise  was 
now  terrific,  and  a  loud  crash  on  the  panel  of  the 
door  split  the  wood,  and  through  the  gap  appeared 
Bwca's  long  nose.  In  a  moment  the  farmer  had 


22  WONDER  TALES. 

run  an  awl  through  the  nose  from  one  side  to  the 
other,  and  the  deed  was  done.  Bwca  was  a  captive; 
and  there  he  remained,  fuming,  yet  firmly  fixed, 
till  the  calm  and  holy  man  had  finished  chanting 
the  words  that  freed  the  land  from  the  lubber 
fiend. 

"  In  the  name  of  St.  Francis  and  St.  Benedict 
I  command  thee  to  haste  to  the  banks  of  the  Red 
Sea,  O  Goblin.  Appear  not  in  the  sight  of  man  till 
fourteen  generations  (yea,  mark,  twice  seven,  that 
holy  number),  have  come  and  gone.  Thou  shalt 
pass  hither  by  the  upper  wind,  so  that,  as  thou 
wendest  thy  way,  thou  shalt  cause  no  harm  or 
hindrance  to  the  sons  of  men.  Avaunt,  and  quit 
my  sight!  *'' 

As  the  priest  spoke  these  words  a  loud  wind 
began  to  sweep  around  the  house  till  the  fabric  shook 
to  its  foundation.  Screaming,  wailing  noises  were 
heard,  and  the  farmer  hid  his  face  in  his  hands. 
But  the  priest  took  hold  of  the  awl,  drew  it  from 
Bwca's  nose,  and  stood  aside.  Out  fled  the  goblin 
with  a  scream  of  impotent  anger,  and  so  passed 
into  the  night. 

Such  was  the  power  of  the  priest  that  never  since 
in  that  neighbourhood  has  sprite  or  goblin  troubled 


BWCA'R  TRWYN. 


23 


house  or  shelter  or  food  of  any  kind.  Yet 
sometimes,  when  the  wind  is  high,  there  comes  down 
from  the  hills  a  low  wailing,  and  then  men  who  are 
wise  close  every  door  and  window  in  the  house,  and 
build  big  fires  on  the  hearth. 


THE   SEA-MAIDEN. 

VERY  day  in  the  week,  on  Sundays  and 
Holy-days  as  well  as  workadays,  If  an   Ivan» 

John. 

Morgan  would  be  down  by  the  sea 
feasting  his  eyes  on  the  dancing, 
glancing  waves.  Before  the  first  trembling  light 
began  to  turn  the  eastern  sky  a  pearly  grey,  and 
before  the  bush-birds  gave  their  first  sleepy  tweet- 
tweet,  If  an  was  wending  his  way  to  the  waves.  Nor 
was  this  strange,  for  Ifan's  forefathers  had  done 
the  same  thing;  and,  in  his  childhood,  he  had  seen 
his  father  fishing  in  the  sea,  or  watching  from  the 
shore.  And  so  If  an  Morgan  was  like  his  forefathers. 
Sometimes  in  the  season  he  went  to  catch  the  frisky 
mackerel,  or  the  silver  herring  when  it  came  in  shoals 


THE   SEA   MAIDEN.  25 

near  the  coast.  But  his  chief  delight  was  to  walk 
along  the  sea-shore  and  see  what  good  things  his 
uncle  Daf y  Jones  would  bring  him ;  for  that  was  the 
name  by  which  the  Morgans  called  the  great  wide  sea. 
One  morning,  just  as  the  first  pale  blue  of  the 
dawn  stole  out  of  the  night,  Ifan  sat  by  the  great 
yawning  mouths  of  the  dark  caves  that  lay  under  the 
hill-sides.  His  eyes  seemed  busy  searching  for 
something  that  could  not  be  found,  and,  ever  and 
anon,  they  wandered  towards,  and  dwelt  upon  the 
cave  of  Deio.  Fishermen  whispered  strange  and  Ddo  (short 

.  for  David). 

wonderful  things  about  this  cave ;  and  there  it  stood, 
grim  and  stark,  in  the  wreathing  mists  of  the 
morning,  a  dark  patch  open  to  the  curling  sea.  One 
of  Ifan's  ancestors  had  had  strange  commerce  in 
this  cave;  and  people  wondered  as  to  what  manner 
of  things  happened  in  its  murky  depths.  Some  said 
that  old  Deio  used  to  deal  there  with  folk  he  should 
not  have  met,  for  he  carried  with  him  gifts  of  gold 
and  silver  from  somewhere;  but  no  one  knew  whence. 
The  story  went  on  to  say  that  Deio  had  for  his  wife, 
in  that  dark  abode,  a  sea-maiden.  That  must  be  clear 
for  anyone  to  guess.  '  Otherwise  there  was  no 
reason  for  his  disappearance  for  weeks  at  a  time, 
and  his  possession  of  these  gifts.  But  although 


26  WONDER  TALES. 

fishermen  often  went  to  seek  him  they  could  never 
trace  his  whereabouts. 

And  by  this  cave  sat  our  friend  Ifan,  for  the 
times  were  hard,  and  a  great  desire  had  come  upon 
him  to  enter  the  gloomy  portals.  For  more  than  two 
years  no  wreck  had  come  upon  that  coast.  The 
outlook  was  very  sad  for  the  coming  winter,  and  the 
mackerel  and  herring  seemed  to  shun  the  shore.  Up 
stood  Ifan,  and,  with  his  mind  all  of  a  tremble,  he 
drew  near  to  the  mouth — that  darksome,  open 
mouth!  And  then  he  came  away!  Again  he 
approached,  wondering  if  he  dared.  The  tide  was 
running  out,  he  was  a  good  swimmer,  and  yet  he 
could  not  enter. 

"  If  the  sea-maiden  came  to  me,"  he  said,  as 
he  sat  down  once  more,  "  if  she  came,  I  should  run 
for  my  life.  And  what  would  be  the  good  of  that  ? 
Nothing  whatever.  I  must  clutch  her,  and  beg  her 
to  marry  me,  or  else  I  shall  get  no  money.  If  I 
married  her,  then  I  should  have  wealth  and  all  the 
money  I  could  want,  and  that  would  be  something 
worth  having."  Ifan  scratched  his  head,  and 
looked  deep  into  the  dark  depths. 

As  he  gazed,  his  eyes  saw  farther  into  the  dark- 
ness and  they  caught  sight  of  a  candle  that  shed  a 


THE   SEA   MAIDEN.  27 

pale,  green  light  upon  a  narrow  strip  of  sand  which 
lay  along  a  pool.  By  this  pool  sat  a  young  girl 
combing  her  hair.  Never  had  If  an  seen  aught  so 
lovely.  Her  fair  skin  was  soft  and  shimmered  like 
satin,  and  hair  fell  in  silky,  golden  showers  around 
her  knees.  If  an  went  slowly  towards  her,  and,  as  he 
approached,  he  heard  her  weeping  bitterly  and 
sighing  sorely,  while  the  glittering  tears  dropped 
from  her  eyelids  like  spring  rain-drops  sparkling 
from  the  sky.  He  put  out  his  great  rough  hand  and 
gently  stroked  her  soft,  yielding  hair  in  order  to 
check  her  sorrow.  Then  he  dared  to  touch  her  hand, 
but  she  uttered  a  scream  like  a  savage  thing  caught 
in  a  net,  and  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts  to  calm  her, 
she  grew  more  and  more  wild  and  timorous. 

If  an  knew  not  what  to  do.  That  he  was  fortunate 
to  be  by  the  side  of  such  a  young  and  wealthy  maiden 
he  felt  certain.  But  how  could  he  win  her  consent 
to  marriage  so  that  he  might  get  gold  and  silver 
wealth?  In  her  hand  she  held  her  golden  comb, 
and  around  her  fair  neck  hung  a  chain  of  gleaming 
pearls.  If an's  heart  failed  him ;  all  he  could  do  was 
to  pat  her  hair  as  though  she  were  one  of  his  brother's 
children,  that  her  fear  might  depart.  At  last  he 
tried  again  to  hold  her  white  hand ;  but,  thereupon, 


28  WONDER  TALES. 

she  screamed  like  half-a-dozen  young  screech  owls, 
and  I  fan  heard  afar  off  an  answering  cry. 

"  Go  away,"  she  cried;  "  my  brother  is  coming. 
Hasten !  but  come  to-morrow." 

Then  there  leaped  upon  I  fan  a  spray  which 
blinded  him,  and  the  pale  flame  of  the  green  candle 
went  out.  Hither  and  thither  was  Ifan  flung  in  the 
waters  of  the  cavern.  A  rope  passed  over  his  head, 
and  he  bethought  him  to  utter  "  Our  Father,"  but 
there  was  no  time  amid  the  strife.  Then  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye,  he  was  drawn  without  the  cave, 
and  though  its  sides  were  sharp  with  jutting  rocks, 
and  great  blue  stones  lay  under  the  surface  of  the 
water,  yet  he  had  no  harm.  The  rope  was  still  about 
him  and  lay  around  his  waist,  and,  although  he 
feared  to  touch  it,  he  longed  to  draw  it  to  him,  for  it 
would  make  a  splendid  cable  for  his  boat.  In  spite 
of  fear  he  dragged  it  from  the  sea.  Lo !  at  its  other 
end  he  saw  fastened  a  large  trunk.  He  pulled 
eagerly,  and,  despite  its  heavy  weight,  still  he  tugged 
more  strongly.  But  before  he  could  pull  it  in  to  the 
beach,  behold,  a  mighty  wave  swelled  up  in  the  sea, 
and  dragged  him  out  of  his  depth;  then  once  again 
the  sea  leaped  up,  and  a  wave  with  a  snowy  crest 
lifted  him  on  its  bosom,  and  he  found  that  he  stood 


THE   SEA  MAIDEN.  29 

by  the  side  of  the  trunk,  upon  a  grassy  mound,  near 
the  shore. 

Who  can  tell  of  Ifan's  joy  when  he  saw  the 
treasure  nestling  in  the  heart  of  that  trunk  ?  Rings 
set  with  sparkling  gems;  chains  that  glittered  like 
the  falling  waters  when  they  are  scattered  from  the 
rock  in  the  sunshine;  pearls  as  white  as  snow,  and 
rubies  red  as  fire — treasures  without  price  lay  before 
his  wondering  eyes.  He  hid  them  in  haste,  and,  by 
night,  he  crept  backwards  and  forwards  till  all  was 
safe  and  sound  in  his  cottage  home.  Then  he  went 
to  bed  and  slept. 

While  yet  a  few  pale  stars  twinkled  faintly  in 
the  roseate  sky,  Ifan  walked  with  a  wondering 
mind  towards  the  cave  of  Deio.  Far  he  wandered 
in  the  faint  and  misty  light,  and  ever  his  thought  left 
him  no  peace.  He  wished  now  he  had  brought  a 
torch  to  lighten  the  darkness  of  his  mystic  cave. 
Now  he  trembled  lest  the  treasure  were  the  subtle 
creation  of  a  dream  woven  in  the  sleep  of  the  night. 
Long  he  waited  in  the  cavern;  but  no  one  came,  and 
at  last  he  made  his  way  homeward,  feeling  that  all 
was  not  real,  and  he  had  but  dreamed  a  dream.  Yet 
at  home  there  lay  the  wondrous  heap  of  jewels  in 
their  settings,  so  he  placed  them  in  skilful  array  in 


30  WONDER  TALES. 

many  a  cunning  corner,  and,  when  the  night  had 
come,  he  sank  again  to  sleep. 

Then,  in  the  darkness,  a  form  came  nigh  unto 
him,  and  damp  arms  wrapped  themselves  around 
him.  The  more  he  strove  to  free  himself,  the  closer 
grew  the  embrace,  and  he  heard  a  whisper,  faint 
as  the  breath  of  evening,  speak  the  words,  ' '  Forget 
not  to  be  early  in  the  morn!  "  "  Stay!  "  cried 
If  an.  "  Wait  till  I  get  a  light,  and  I  will  rise 
immediately."  But  before  the  words  had  left  his 
lips  the  visitor  had  gone ;  there  was  nothing.  If  an, 
rising  in  haste  searched  for  his  treasure,  and  he  saw 
it  by  the  candle  light,  gleaming  and  glittering,  gold 
and  silver,  gems  and  pearls,  charms  and  jewels 
without  number. 

Again  the  sun  stole  silently  through  the  curtain 
of  the  heavens,  and  Ifan  set  out  for  the  shore,  while 
fear  possessed  him  as  he  wandered  by  the  silvery 
sea.  Yes,  indeed,  fear  that  never  more  would  his 
eyes  look  upon  the  little  white  house  with  thatched 
roof,  the  home  of  his  birth  and  childhood.  Then 
again  his  heart  beat,  and  he  saw  in  his  mind  a  vision 
of  comfort  and  welfare.  As  he  mused  he  stood 
among  his  comrades  by  the  sea  while  they  pulled 
their  nets  to  the  shore.  It  was  terrible  to  hear  their 


THE   SEA   MAIDEN.  31 

language  when  the  nets  came  home ;  for  not  a  fish  lay 
within  the  meshes,  and  one  man  cried,  "  That  curse 
of  a  sea-maiden  has  opened  our  nets  and  set  free  the 
fish." 

Ifan  stole  stealthily  away,  and  then  sped  along 
the  shore.  When  he  reached  Deio's  cave,  whom 
should  he  see  at  the  entrance  but  the  maiden  sleeking 
her  hair  with  a  golden  comb.  Yet  to  him  marvellous 
was  the  change  which  transformed  her.  Before,  she 
was  but  a  slim  girl ;  now  she  stood  dressed  richly  like 
some  great  lady,  and  wearing  upon  her  head  a  crown 
of  purest  gold.  As  Ifan  approached  she  held  out 
her  fair  hand,  saying  : 

"  Comest  thou,  Ifan?  I  wish  to  dwell  awhile 
among  the  people  of  the  land.  Keep  this,"  quoth 
she,  handing  him  a  magic  cap,  "  and  I  will  wear  a 
crown,  for  I  am  a  king's  daughter." 

Ifan  bent  low  before  her,  overcome  by  her 
wondrous  beauty,  and  marvelling  that  she  could  be 
the  same. 

While  yet  the  mists  trembled  in  the  embrace  of 
the  morning  they  two  went  their  way,  and  Ifan  was 
without  speech,  for  he  knew  not  what  to  say.  He 
feared  to  mention  his  humble  home,  but  even  as  this 
thought  trod  the  pathways  of  his  brain  she  knew  of 


32  WONDER  TALES. 

its  existence.  Turning  to  him,  with  a  smile  like  the 
tender  light  which  steals  through  the  ivy  into  a 
darkened  room,  she  said  with  a  ripple  of  laughter 
in  her  voice : 

"  I  know  quite  well  that  thou  knowest  not  how 
to  tell  me  of  thy  home.  But  think  not  of  that,  for  I 
have  long  known  thee,  and  seen  thee  oft,  ever  since, 
as  a  young  lad  with  rosy  cheek,  thou  didst  fish  from 
thy  father's  boat  in  the  bay.  In  those  days,  I  heard 
thee  sing  a  song  which  won  for  thee  the  love  of  my 
heart.  When  I  spake  of  thy  song  and  sought  to  sing 
it  to  my  father  in  his  palace,  all  wondered  at  its 
music,  and  wished  to  hear  it  from  end  to  end.  So 
I  came  back  often  and  listened  for  it,  but  in  vain. 
Then  was  I  permitted  by  those  who  love  me  to  come 
seeking  for  thee  with  treasures,  seeking  that  soul- 
melody  which  will  not  be  taught  save  by  treasure. 
Yet  when  I  met  thee  I  knew  that  wealth  alone  would 
not  avail  to  win  thee,  but  that  I  must  appear  as  now 
thou  seest  me.  My  name  is  Nefyn  and  I  am  the 
daughter  to  Nefydd-Naf-Neifion.  Nor  am  I  without  Nevith-Nav- 

Nivion,  Nefyd 

relations  in  thy  world.    Think  then  no  more  of  thy   Lord  of  Lords 

cottage,  but  do  as  thou  dost  desire,  and  all  shall  be 

well.'5 

Then  Ifan  asked  her  timidly  if  she  would  be  his 


THE   SEA  MAIDEN.  33 

bride,  and  dwell  with  him  for  better  or  for  worse? 
She  answered  that  she  was  fain  to  do  so,  if  he  would 
teach  her  his  song,  nor  let  her  see  the  mystic  cap. 
Then  as  the  day  grew  brighter  so  more  radiant 
seemed  the  face  of  his  affianced  bride,  while  Ifan's 
song  came  to  him  again,  and  he  sang  it  to  Nefyn  :  Nevin- 

"  Oh,  feathered  friend  with  pure  blue  wing, 

Mild  and  obedient  as  a  dove, 
Now  speed  thee,  speed  thee  to  the  maid 

Who  captured  all  my  youthful  love. 
Tea,  hasten,  bird,  and  tell  my  sweet, 
Tears  stain  my  face, 

They  never  tire. 
For  her  embrace 

I  burn  with  fire — 
Love  lingers  in  my  very  pace. 

Ah !  Beauty  slaying  me  with  love — 
May  God  be  gracious  to  such  grace!  " 

Yet  their  marriage  was  not  easy,  for  the  news 
spread  abroad  that  Nefyn  was  a  sea-maiden,  and 
it  was  only  by  their  wealth  that  all  was  settled. 
Then  indeed  they  dwelt  together  in  happiness, 
wandering  hand  in  hand  by  the  sea-shore,  and  often 
entering  thus  into  the  cave. 

Time  sped  by  and  Ifan  and  Nefyn  were  as  nobles 
in  the  land.  Never  was  wife  more  tender  and  full 
of  grace,  nor  husband  more  loving.  There  were 
born  to  them  three  sons  and  three  daughters,  and 

D 


34  WONDER  TALES. 

these  children  were  beauteous  as  the  young  and 
slender  flowers  that  grow  in  the  meadows  in  the 
spring  time. 

One  fine  day  when  the  sunlight  dwelt  upon  the 
ocean  and  its  rays  were  so  strong  that  the  young  fish 
could  be  seen  passing  to  and  fro  in  the  crystal  depths, 
Ifan  and  Nefyn  and  their  children  went  over  the  sea 
in  a  boat.  Suddenly  a  storm  sprang  from  the  sky 
and  the  huge  waves  leapt  to  meet  it.  Through  the 
tumult  of  air  and  water,  screams  and  cries  could  be 
heard,  and  the  children  were  sorely  affrighted. 
Seeing  their  terror  Nefyn  bent  over  the  side  of  the 
boat,  and  her  moving  lips  showed  that  she  was 
speaking  to  some  one  in  the  depths  beneath.  Great 
was  the  awe  of  the  children  at  this,  and  they 
remembered  the  rumours  that  surrounded  their 
mother's  origin.  Then  Nefydd,  the  eldest  son, 
thought  of  all  he  had  heard  from  his  parents  of 
Nefydd-Naf-Neifion,  and  the  valleys  of  Gwenhidiw, 
and  the  country  of  Gwyn  ab  Nudd  (whose  prince 
came  to  visit  them)  and  his  heart  sank,  for  to  him 
his  mother  was  beautiful  beyond  compare,  tenderest 
and  kindest  of  all  the  world.  Could  she  indeed  be  a 
sea-maiden  from  the  unknown  and  mystic  depths  of 
the  great  grey  sea  ? 


THE   SEA  MAIDEN.  35 

One  day  there  rode  up  to  the  home  of  I  fan  a 
messenger,  and,  at  night,  when  the  crescent  moon 
was  sharp,  pointed  and  pale  in  the  western  sky,  If  an 
and  Nefyn  departed,  leaving  the  children  in  charge 
of  a  trusted  servant.  Then  Nefydd,  who  watched 
them  go,  said  to  Eilonwy,  his  sister,  "  Why  should  Eil6nui 
they  set  out  by  night?  "  So  they  followed  them 
along  the  shore.  And  lo !  a  huge  wave  rose  from  out 
the  glassy  sea,  and  Nefyn,  wrapping  Ifan  and 
herself  in  a  cloak  of  skin,  sank  into  the  water's  heart 
and  passed  from  sight.  At  the  sad  knowledge  of  his 
mother's  secret,  the  heart  of  Nefydd  broke  within 
him,  and  his  sister,  seeing  that  her  brother  was  dead, 
no  more  desired  to  live,  and  flung  herself  into  the 
sea. 

As  Eilonwy  fell  into  the  waves,  a  knight  of 
beauteous  form,  and  riding  on  a  snow-white  horse, 
came  galloping  swiftly  over  the  waves,  and  bending 
low  from  the  saddle  caught  the  maiden  in  his  arms, 
and  bore  her  swiftly  away. 

In  the  house  of  Ifan  all  was  confusion.  Nefydd 
was  dead,  Eilonwy  had  cast  herself  away  and  could 
not  be  found.  What  could  be  done?  Then  spake 
Tegid,  the  brave,  handsome  brother  : 

"If  we  get  no  message  ere  the  morrow  we  must 


36  WONDER  TALES. 

bury  Nefydd  in  the  waves,  and  perchance  some  of 
my  mother's  kinsfolk  will  come  and  fetch  him." 

But  at  midnight  a  knight  came  to  the  house  and 
bade  them  bury  their  brother  as  the  early  grey  dawn 
crept  over  the  sea. 

"  Yet,"  said  he,  "  do  not  mourn  for  Nefydd. 
He  shall  come  back  to  you  and  dwell  with  you  once 
more.  And  Eilonwy,  the  fair,  lives  as  the  bride  of 
the  brightest  and  bravest  knight  of  Gwerddonau- 
Llion." 

At  dawn,  they  bore  the  coffin  out  to  sea,  and  lo ! 
as  it  sank  into  the  cold  waves,  those  who  watched 
saw  Nefydd  leave  its  shelter,  and,  with  his  arm 
around  the  self -same  messenger  who  bade  them  hope, 
he  passed  into  a  ship  which  flew  away  with  them. 
Then,  of  a  truth,  wonder  reigned  all  over  the  land 
as  to  what  would  happen  thereafter. 

Time  sped  by,  and,  when  a  year  and  a  day  had 
passed,  Ifan,  royal  in  aspect  and  decked  in  regal 
robes,  came  to  his  home.  Nefyn  did  not  return,  for 
she  dwelt  with  her  daughter  for  a  time.  All  was 
joy  in  the  homestead,  yet  in  the  midst  of  the  joy  came 
the  dark  stab  of  sorrow,  for  Ifan,  in  the  night  which 
followed,  sank  into  a  death  slumber,  and  could  not 
be  awakened.  Rumour  told  of  a  black  warrior, 


THE   SEA  MAIDEN.  37 

who,  in  the  night,  stole  silently  to  the  house,  and  as 
silently  departed. 

On  the  morning  of  Ifan's  burial  Nefyn  returned 
to  the  sad  home.  Bitterly  she  wept,  and  in  a  brief 
space  she  left  the  house  again,  and  Tegid  remained 
as  lord.  Verily  his  lot  was  sad,  and  he  needed  all 
his  courage  to  face  the  dark  looks  of  his  neighbours. 
So  threatening  did  they  become  that  he  sent  his 
sisters  away  to  be  educated  elsewhere,  and  he  and 
his  brother  remained  to  face  the  tumult. 

One  night  the  brothers  dreamed  the  same  dream. 
They  saw,  as  it  were,  the  black  knight  pass  into 
Deio's  cave.  In  the  morning  they  went  in  haste  to 
see  if  it  were  so,  and  before  their  very  eyes  the  ship 
which  brought  their  sisters  home  again  was  cast  upon 
the  rocky  shore,  and  shattered.  Yet  they  hastened 
to  the  cave,  and  here  to  their  horror  they  beheld  the 
gleaming  coils  of  a  huge  serpent.  As  Tegid  lifted 
his  sword  to  strike,  the  serpent  cried  aloud  : 

"  Strike  me  not,  Tegid,  for  I  am  thy  sister 
imprisoned  by  the  black  knight." 

As  she  spoke  the  black  knight  came  from  a  deep 
recess,  and  whirling  his  sword  aloft  struck  off  the 
serpent's  head.  But  in  vain.  Another  head  came 
in  its  place,  and,  as  it  did  so,  a  knight  clad  in  white 


38  WONDER  TALES. 

armour  strode  from  another  part.  Then  the  sound 
of  shrewd  and  awful  blows  resounded  in  Deio's  cave. 
Full  soon,  however,  the  black  knight  lay  dead  in  the 
dark  cavern,  and,  as  he  died,  Eilonwy  sprang  from 
the  serpent's  slough,  and  Nefyn  rose  from  the  waves 
and  bore  her  children  to  their  father's  court — all, 
that  is,  except  Tegid.  He,  loving  his  father  dearly, 
remained  for  a  year  and  a  day  by  Ifan's  grave,  often 
consoled  by  Nefyn,  who  came  to  visit  him.  Great 
was  his  gladness  when  one  day  to  the  faithful  lad 
came  Ifan  himself.  After  a  long,  fond  embrace, 
Tegid,  leaning  on  his  loving  father's  arm,  went 
joyfully  to  meet  his  kinsfolk  at  the  Court  of  Nefydd. 


OWAIN  OF   DRWS   COED. 

NTIL  he  reached  the  age  of  twenty  no 
son  could  have  been  more  devoted  to 
his  parents  than  Owain  of  Drws  Coed. 
They  loved  him  dearly,  for  he  was 
their  only  child,  and  in  return  for  their  love  Owain 
scarcely  ever  left  his  father  and  mother.  As  soon 
as  he  had  finished  the  work  of  the  farm,  he  would 
come  in  and  join  the  old  people,  talk  with  them, 
and  sing  in  a  clear,  musical  voice  many  of  the  songs 
that  they  rejoiced  to  hear.  He  could  play  on  the 
harp,  and  that  made  his  song  yet  more  delightful  for 
those  who  listened. 


Druce  Koid, 
door  of  wood. 


40  WONDER  TALES. 

Sometimes  the  people  in  the  village,  friends  of 
the  family  at  Drws  Coed,  would  come  to  spend  the 
evening,  and  Owain  sang  to  them  as  well.  They 
begged  him  to  sing  and  play  on  the  harp,  for  they 
said,  "  No  one  sings  like  Owain,  and  his  harp  is 
very  sweet."  And  the  maidens  of  the  village  looked 
shyly,  yet  with  admiration,  at  Owain,  for  he  was 
tall  and  straight  as  an  arrow,  and  his  eyes  were 
deep  and  tender  in  their  regard.  Indeed,  everyone 
loved  Owain;  but  Owain  did  not  love  everybody — 
only  the  dear  old  folk  who  lived  in  the  ancient  grey 
house  of  Drws  Coed.  So  his  boyhood  slipped  away, 
as  the  hours  pass  on  a  summer's  morning,  and  lo ! 
Owain  was  twenty. 

One  day  the  mists  came  rolling  down  the 
mountain-sides  like  great  puffs  of  breath  from  a 
giant's  mouth.  Vast  ragged  shreds  they  were  as 
they  left  the  mountain-top,  and  they  came  down  to 
the  valley  as  though  the  giant  wished  to  hide  the 
whole  world  from  his  view.  Owain  led  his  sheep 
lower  down  the  slope,  because  the  mist  had  laid 
thousands  of  sparkling  drops  upon  the  grass,  and 
moss-covered  rocks,  and  also  on  the  backs  of  the 
sheep;  and  there  was  no  blue  sky  to  be  seen 
anywhere.  He  wished  to  find  a  sheltered  spot  in  the 


OWAIN   OF    DRWS    COED.  41 

well-known  valley  where  the  flock  could  be  safely 

shut  in  a  pen.      As  he  drove  them  before  him  he 

reached  Cwm  Marchnad,  where  the  reeds  grow  tall   Koom  March- 

and  rich,  and  the  ground  is  always  marshy.     Owain 

little  thought  what  was  awaiting  him  in  this  place; 

but  he  went  on,  driving  his  sheep  before  him,  and 

thinking  of  the  old  folk  at  home. 

Then,  all  at  once,  his  eye  beheld  under  the 
shelter  of  a  large,  grassy  mound  a  figure  which  made 
his  heart  throb  and  leap  within  him.  It  was  a 
young  and  exceedingly  beautiful  woman.  Never 
had  Owain  dreamed  that  such  beauty  could  be  upon 
our  earth ;  for  this  lass  as  much  surpassed  the  gentle 
maids  of  the  village  as  the  delicate,  winning  wild- 
rose  surpassed  the  wool  flowers  his  mother  worked 
into  her  patterns.  He  could  only  stand  and  stare 
at  her  with  all  his  might,  as  though  he  wished  his 
eyes  could  drink  in  all  her  beauty. 

Her  hair  was  very  long,  and  lay  about  her  in 
curling  masses  of  fine  golden  threads.  So  very 
golden  was  it  that  it  seemed  to  have  caught  some  of 
the  rays  of  the  hidden  sun.  Her  eyes  were  as  blue 
and  sparkling  as  the  summer  skies,  and  her  forehead 
was  as  white  as  the  foam  that  dwells  on  the  leaping 
wave,  or  as  the  snow  new  fallen  from  heaven.  Her 


42  WONDER  TALES. 

face  was  rounded  with  the  fresh  beauty  of  youth, 
and  her  cheek  blushed  like  the  red  roses  of  summer, 
and  as  Owain  looked  at  her  lips,  which  were  small 
and  perfectly  shaped,  and  rich  in  colour,  he  thought 
they  were  so  pretty  that  even  an  angel  would  desire 
to  kiss  them.  Yet  Owain  had  never  before  had  the 
thought  of  love  in  his  heart,  and  he  loved  best  of  all 
to  sing  and  play  the  harp  to  the  old  people  at  Drws 
Coed.  But  now  love  had  surged  through  his  veins 
as  the  rich  light  of  the  early  summer  floods  the  fields 
of  young  corn,  and  ripens  them  to  harvest.  He  was 
heartstricken ;  yea,  he  who  was  so  timid  and  shy 
drew  near  to  the  wondrous  girl,  as  pieces  of  paper 
fly  towards  amber.  In  faltering  words,  and 
speaking  rather  with  his  eyes  than  with  his  voice, 
he  asked  her  whether  he  might  stay  and  converse 
with  her.  She  smiled  courteously  upon  him,  and, 
reaching  forth  a  hand  pure  white  as  the  drooping 
snowdrop,  took  his  rough,  red  hand  and  said,  ' '  Idol 
of  my  hopes,  thou  hast  come  at  last !  ' ! 

Then  Owain 's  tongue  lost  its  fear,  and  the  words 
flowed  smoothly  as  the  brook  which  has  reached  the 
valley.  He  spoke  of  love  and  the  springtide,  of  his 
father  and  mother  at  home,  and  the  old  grey  farm 
of  Drws  Coed ;  and  the  maiden  sat  and  listened  with 


OWAIN   OF    DRWS    COED.  43 

her  gentle  hands  folded  in  her  lap,  and  her  eyes, 
tender  and  sweet,  watching  his  lips  as  they  formed 
the  words  and  disclosed  his  white  teeth.  Ever  and 
anon  she  smiled  at  his  beauty,  as  he  marvelled  at 
hers;  and  so  the  hours  slipped  swiftly  away. 

Not  far  away  along  the  valley  was  the  Llyn  y  LHn  e  gadair, 
Gadair,  a  lake  that  lay  all  shut  in  by  the  protecting  ^V*  the 
mountains.  Here  there  was  perfect  peace,  silence 
like  the  silence  of  Heaven,  and  the  beauty  of  nature 
at  her  sweetest  and  best.  Around  the  silvery  margin 
of  the  lake  stood  young  groves  of  birch-trees,  whose 
white  barks  were  flaky  with  the  swelling  wood,  and 
beyond  these  groves  lay  fields  which  were  clothed 
in  the  spring  with  the  purity  of  the  daisy  and  the 
gleam  of  the  golden  buttercup.  Hither  Owain  and 
Bela  would  wander,  hand  in  hand,  speechless,  yet  by 
their  glances  telling  more  than  words  could  express, 
and  forgetful  of  the  worlds  above  and  below. 

At  last,  Love  so  much  overcame  Owain  that  he 
was  restless  day  and  night  when  Bela  was  absent 
from  him.  Sometimes,  ere  yet  it  was  dawn,  he 
would  arise  and  sing  : 

"  0  sweeter  to  me  is  the  face  of  my  Fair, 

More  beautiful  far  than  the  rose ; 
More  golden  than  sunshine  the  strands  of  her  hair, 
When  day  draweth  near  to  a  close. 


44  WONDER  TALES. 

Like  fire  in  the  heart  is  my  Love,  when  'tis  day, 
And  Love  filleth  my  soul  in  the  night. 

Then  hearing  these  words,  Love,  0  do  not  delay, 
But  come  with  thy  glances  so  bright." 

And  Owain's  father  and  mother  and  his  many 
friends  thought  the  black-haired  boy  was  bewitched, 
for  thus  he  sang  in  the  night,  while  by  day  he  would 
wander  away  for  long  spells,  and  no  one  could  tell 
whither  he  had  gone,  nor  what  had  become  of  him. 

But  at  length  the  secret  lay  open,  and  all  knew 
of  Owain's  love.  Yet  before  Owain  told  his  story 
he  and  Bela  had  passed  through  a  long  and  loving 
courtship  by  the  Llyn  y  Gadair.  For  thither  would 
Owain  turn  his  steps,  and  there  was  Bela  always 
awaiting  him.  For  this  reason  the  place  of  their 
tryst  has  been  known  as  the  Maiden's  Bower,  and  in 
this  sacred  haunt  the  young  lovers  spent  the  golden 
hours  of  youth,  and  determined,  as  time  went  on,  to 
marry. 

But  if  they  were  to  marry  it  was  necessary  for 
Bela  to  obtain  her  father's  consent,  and  who  could 
tell  how  he  would  view  her  love  for  Owain  ?  Yet  she 
told  him ;  and  the  word  came  to  Owain  to  await  her 
father  in  the  woods.  Accordingly,  on  the  night 
when  the  full  moon  floated  in  the  sky,  Owain  went 
out  and  waited  to  hear  his  fate,  and  stood  long  and 


OWAIN   OF   DRWS    COED.  45 

anxiously  among  the  silver  birches,  while  nature 
slept,  and  the  moonlight  danced  on  the  ripples  of 
Llyn  y  Gadair. 

For  a  long  time  there  was  no  sign  of  living  person 
other  than  himself ;  but  as  the  moon  passed  over  and 
beyond  the  mountain-side,  there  came  towards  him 
two  forms.  By  the  soft  misty  hair  Owain  recognised 
the  beautiful  Bela.  Her  head  bent  low  as  she  drew 
near  to  her  lover.  The  other  form  was  that  of  an 
old  man,  with  a  kindly  peaceful  face  and  silver- 
streaming  hair.  He  came  gently  up  to  Owain,  and 
taking  the  lad's  hand  placed  within  it  the  white 
hand  of  Bela.  Then  he  said  : 

"  Thou  shalt  have  my  daughter,  Owain,  but  on 
one  condition  only.  Never  shalt  thou  allow  cold 
iron  to  touch  her  flesh.  If  thou  dost,  then  she  shall 
no  longer  be  thine,  but  shall  return  at  once  to  her 
own  people." 

Then  Owain  was  blithe  at  heart,  and  his  voice 
was  as  the  flow  of  the  nightingale's  song  when  all 
the  woods  are  hushed  to  hear  it  sing  its  lay  of  love. 
Gladly  he  consented  to  the  condition.  There  was  no 
talk  about  any  dowry,  for  love  was  the  only 
acceptable  one.  Then  the  silver-haired  old  father 
led  away  the  shy  and  lovely  Bela.  Yet  before  they 


46  WONDER  TALES. 

departed,  Owain  and  she  had  fixed  the  day  for  their 
marriage. 

On  the  appointed  day  they  were  married,  and 
all  those  present  at  the  ceremony  declared  that  they 
had  never  seen  at  the  altar  a  more  handsome  or 
fairer  couple.  People  tell  how  a  large  sum  of 
money  came  with  Bela  as  her  dowry;  for  the  people 
of  Tylwyth  Teg  are  as  wealthy  as  those  who  dwell 
among  the  hills  of  gold,  and  on  the  wedding  night 
the  charming  virgin  went  to  Drws  Coed,  rich  in 
the  golden  offerings  of  her  kinsfolk.  And  very  soon 
after  that  the  young  master  shepherd  of  Cwm 
Marchnad  was  a  rich  and  responsible  man. 

After  the  fashion  of  nature,  in  due  time  children 
were  born  to  Owain  and  Bela,  and  they  and  their 
family  lived  happily  together.  Everything  passed 
in  sweet  contentment  for  many  a  year.  Yes,  indeed, 
wealth  poured  in  continually,  for  Fortune  is  a 
wondrous  dame.  She  is  the  eldest  daughter  of 
Providence,  and  to  her,  as  to  her  mother,  are 
entrusted  marvellous  treasures  to  impart  them  as  she 
is  disposed.  The  old  proverb  says  that  water  runs 
down  to  the  valley,  and  so  it  was  with  this  couple. 
They  became  wealthy  beyond  the  average  lot  of  man. 

But  the  fair  rose  hath  her  sting;  night  will  ever 


OWAIN    OF    DRWS    COED.  47 

follow  day.  One  cannot  have  the  sweet  without  the 
bitter,  and  even  so  it  came  to  pass  for  Owain  and 
Bela. 

One  day  the  husband  and  wife  chanced  to  ride 
out  and  visit  the  cherished  margin  of  Llyn  y  Gadair. 
As  they  rode,  Bela  went  too  near  the  water,  and,  its 
foot  slipping,  her  horse  sank  into  the  water  up  to 
its  girth.  Owain  hastened  to  save  his  dear  wife, 
and,  when  the  horse  was  safely  on  shore  again,  he 
helped  Bela  to  get  off  her  wet  steed  and  mount  his 
own.  Alack  the  day !  in  his  hurry  to  place  her  little 
foot  in  the  stirrup,  the  iron  slipped  and  just  touched 
her  knee.  They  looked  at  one  another  with  faces 
pale  as  the  mistletoe-berry,  and  hastened  to  gallop 
home. 

Ere  they  had  reached  half-way,  there  stole  down 
the  hill-side  the  strains  of  sweetest  music.  Rippling 
and  entrancingly  it  came,  wreathing  and  folding  in 
its  gentle  murmurs  and  tender  cadences  everything 
around  the  mountain  foot.  And,  as  the  harmonies 
sank  into  Owain's  soul,  he  saw  that  they  were 
surrounded  with  a  myriad  of  the  "  small  people," 
while  others  came  rushing  down  the  hill-side.  They 
looked  at  him,  and  the  tears  stole  down  from  their 
eyes.  They  took  Bela  gently  in  their  arms  and  the 


48  WONDER  TALES. 

air  was  full  of  sad  farewells  to  Owain.  Then  as 
the  mist  comes  suddenly  and  obscures  the  view,  so 
Owain  stood  looking  at  the  empty  saddle  of  his  dear 
wife's  horse.  Bela,  his  beautiful,  loving  Bela,  had 
passed  away  before  his  sight,  and  he  knew  not  where 
to  seek  her. 

Some  people  in  the  district  say  that  she  was 
taken  to  the  Maiden's  Bower,  and  thence  to  the  land 
of  Hud,  that  she  left  her  dear  little  ones  to  the  care 
of  her  beloved,  and  that  she  came  no  more  to  their 
presence.  But  there  are  others  who  speak  with  more 
confidence  and  narrate  a  happier  story,  for  they  tell 
how  every  now  and  again  Owain  and  his  little  ones 
would  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  lovely  Bela.  And  it 
happened  in  this  wise.  Since  the  laws  of  her 
country  forbade  her  to  tread  the  earth  with  any 
human  being,  as  she  had  been  touched  with  iron, 
she  and  her  mother  thought  long  and  earnestly,  and 
at  last  they  contrived  a  way  in  which  she  could  see 
and  converse  with  her  husband  and  children  once 
again.  They  obtained  a  large  turf — great  enough 
to  float  and  at  the  same  time  support  Bela.  This 
they  were  wont  to  place  on  the  surface  of  the  lake 
not  far  from  the  silver  strand,  and  here  she  would 
sit  almost  within  reach  of  her  dear  ones,  and  for 


OWAIN     OF     DRWS     COED 

"They  took   Bela  gently  in  their  arms,  and  the  air  was  full 
of  sad  farewells  to  Owain." 


OWAIN   OF   DBWS   COED. 


49 


long,  sweet  hours  hold  loving  talk  with  them.  Thus 
they  all  lived  together  till  time  loosened  Owain's 
soul,  and  it  passed  away  on  the  breeze  of  the 
morning. 


LLYN  TEGID 

or 

THE  STORY  OF  BALA  LAKE. 

HERE  are  many  wonders  in  the  depths 
of  the  sea,  wonders  of  coral,  and  sea- 
weed, and  sea-fish,  great  and  small. 
Much  treasure  is  buried  in  those  great 
silent  depths,  and  a  world  of  which  we  know  very 
little  is  always  lying  there  hidden  from  the  eye  of 
man.  For  man  requires  the  light  of  the  pleasant 
sun  and  deep  draughts  of  glorious  air  to  breathe, 
and  in  those  darksome  depths  sun  and  air  are  absent. 
There  is  the  throne  of  the  realm  of  the  waters,  and 
what  mighty  sovereign  holds  sway  from  that  throne 
no  man  can  say  or  imagine. 

Great  lakes  have  also  their  mysterious,  silent 
depths.  As  they  lie  in  the  heart  of  the  mountains, 
these  lakes  flash  and  sparkle,  where  the  sun  shines 


LLYN  TEGID.  51 

on  them,  like  great  fields  of  precious  stones,  and, 
when  the  sky  is  grey,  they  look  as  threatening  as  a 
giant's  frown.  But  that  is  only  their  surface. 
What  lies  down  there,  in  the  depths  below,  where 
all  is  silent  and  hidden  ?  Who  would  dare  to  plunge 
into  those  depths,  some  moonlight  night,  when  the 
silvery  light  is  running  to  and  fro  over  the  waves 
like  the  foot-prints  of  fairies,  and  sink  ever  deeper 
and  deeper,  right  down  to  the  lowest  depths  ?  What 
would  such  a  bold  diver  see  if  he  reached  that  vast 
and  sombre  kingdom?  Ah!  what  indeed.  Yet 
there  are  strange  stories  about  those  unknown 
regions;  stories  which  carry  one  back  into  the  past 
years  of  the  rolling  world,  when  life  which  we  have 
never  known  sported  and  gloomed  with  the  rapid 
beat  of  Time.  Do  you  wish  to  hear  the  echo  of  its 
vanished  greatness?  Then  you  must  go  and  stand 
near  some  wide  surface  when  all  nature  is  lying  in 
deep  repose  and  listen  for  the  music  that  has  left  the 
world. 

Sometimes,  when  one  is  listening  intently,  there 
comes  as  from  a  fairy- world  the  silvery  sound  of  the 
pealing  of  distant  bells.  It  rises  and  falls  faintly 
upon  the  peaceful  air,  then  passes  into  silence. 
Perhaps  it  is  some  chime  from  the  mystic  depths 


52  WONDER  TALES. 

calling  low  and  sweet  for  the  evensong.  Now  it  will 
come  with  mirth  and  joyance,  as  if  wedding  bells 
were  pealing  for  a  hidden  world  to  rejoice  in  the 
plighting  of  two  faithful  hearts — or  is  it  the  voice 
of  victory  over  some  vanquished  foe  that  steals  over 
the  rippling  waves  ?  Once  again  it  comes,  this  time 
soft  and  slow,  mournfully,  sadly,  touching  some 
regretful  memory  in  the  heart,  for  it  is  the  passing 
bell  tolling  for  a  soul  that  has  winged  its  flight ;  and 
the  mourners  pass  in  dark  garb  to  the  open  grave  in 
the  hill-side. 

Some  people  say  that  when  water  and  air  are 
both  at  perfect  rest  (a  thing  that  happens  on  very 
rare  occasions)  one  can  see,  down  in  the  stilly  depths, 
wonderful  sights  which  reveal  themselves.  For 
magnificent  cities  spring  into  being,  lifting  high  in 
their  watery  envelopment  the  glorious  summits  of 
their  trees  and  spires.  Rare  and  costly  buildings, 
fashioned  from  marble  of  wondrous  hues,  stand  there 
in  their  majestic  splendour.  Through  the  heart  of 
those  cities  of  the  depths  run  broad  roads,  lined  with 
many  a  fair  mansion;  here  and  there  squares  and 
gardens  break  the  masses  of  architecture  with  green 
spaces,  and  waving  branch  and  frond.  Factories 
and  workshops,  wharves  and  market  places  tell  of 


LLYN  TEGID.  53 

the  former  rush  of  life,  while  without  the  walls  lie 
broad  tracts  of  pure  white  sand,  marked  with  oases 
of  shells  and  weed — a  wilderness  of  peace  around 
strange  abodes  of  silence.  Then,  with  a  shiver 
and  sudden  shadowing,  the  waters  cover  up  the 
vision  and  the  human  eye  can  see  no  more. 

Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  powerful  prince 
whose  rule  extended  far  and  wide  over  mountains 
and  vales.  He  was  the  mighty  owner  of  forest  and 
field,  tilth  and  pasture.  Rich  mines  poured  their 
wealth  into  his  coffers ;  the  orchards  and  the  harvests 
shook  their  ruddy  and  golden  wealth  into  his  barns 
and  storehouses;  the  peasant  paid  to  him  his  humble 
tribute  of  human  toil  with  the  sweat  of  his  brow. 
If  such  a  prince,  with  such  possessions,  had  been 
kind  and  wise  the  valleys  might  have  shouted  for 
joy,  and  the  mountains  have  lifted  their  summits  to 
repeat  their  song  of  praise  to  the  blue  heavens  above. 
But,  far  from  being  wise  and  kind,  the  heart  of  this 
prince  was  bitter  and  wickedly  cruel,  so  that 
wherever  he  rode  men  shrank  from  meeting  him. 
He  ruled  his  territory  with  a  rod  of  iron  and  a  hand 
of  cunning,  fierce  oppression.  When  he  was  a  young 
man,  men  dreaded  him;  in  his  age  they  trembled  afar 
off  at  the  very  thought  of  his  malignant  spirit.  The 


54  WONDER  TALES. 

neighbourhood  teemed  with  the  tales  of  his  evil,  and 
there  was  none  to  say  him  nay;  no,  not  one.  Men 
hardly  dared  whisper,  ' '  Beware  of  Tegid  the  Bald, ' ' 
lest  the  breeze  should  carry  the  whisper  to  his  ears, 
so  quick  was  he  to  know  the  spoken  word.  The 
common  people  said  that  the  very  stones  had  ears, 
and  carried  news  to  Tegid. 

So  he  lived  his  life,  and  at  first  nothing  disturbed 
him  in  his  wicked  ways.  He  began  to  build  a  stately 
palace,  for  his  power  was  regal,  and  he  forced  men 
to  toil  day  and  night  at  the  labour  of  quarrying  and 
fashioning  huge  masses  of  marble  to  form  the  massive 
walls.  For  years  masons,  carpenters,  and  joiners 
gave  constant  and  painful  service  to  the  decoration 
of  many  a  lofty  hall,  and,  when  the  work  was  near 
completion,  forest  and  field  were  cleared  to  make  way 
for  the  most  wondrous  garden  that  the  eye  of  man 
had  ever  beheld.  Yet  this  work  was  built  with  his 
peasants'  life  blood,  and  Tegid  laughed  to  see  them 
toiling,  from  dewy  morn  till  the  sinking  of  the  sun. 

'  *  Fools  and  knaves !  ' '  he  cried,  ' '  cease  your 
work  for  but  one  moment,  and  the  lash  shall  sting  you 
into  energy, ' '  and  they  cowered  at  the  violent  looks 
in  the  bloodshot  eyes  turned  upon  them. 

Thus  the  work  went  on.     Year  by  year  Tegid  'a 


LLYN  TEGID.  55 

wealth  increased,  and  year  by  year  his  peasants 
moaned,  toiled,  died,  and  were  forgotten.  Even  so 
in  life  at  this  time  we  see  men  take  the  golden  fruit 
they  have  not  earned.  Yes,  and  they  laugh  in  their 
shallow  ignorance,  thinking  that  they  have  more 
wealth  than  their  fellow-men,  and  then,  in  their 
foolish  chatter  to  their  friends,  tell  how  poor 
creatures  toil  that  they  may  grow  rich.  Yet  over  all 
their  vain  boasting  there  bends  a  listening  ear.  Not 
one  word  of  such  wicked  vaunting  ever  escapes  that 
ear,  and,  in  due  course,  sooner  or  later,  seen  or 
unseen,  comes  a  curse  which  eats  like  a  canker-worm. 
This  thing  is  true,  let  men  doubt  it  if  they  will. 

Tegid  might  have  known  this,  if  he  had  cared  to 
heed  the  warning  that  was  sent  to  him ;  but  he  turned 
deaf  ears,  and  laughed  at  the  thought  of  changing 
his  evil  ways,  till  his  sides  shook.  Sometimes  he 
grew  angry  at  the  voice  of  warning,  yet  he  could 
not  check  it,  or  in  any  way  prevent  the  notes  falling 
upon  his  ears,  for  they  came  from  a  little  bird  that 
was  so  quick  in  its  movements  that  it  was  gone  before 
the  message  had  fallen  from  its  little  throat. 
"  Vengeance  will  come!  Vengeance  will  come!  " 
was  the  burden  of  its  tiny  song.  This  was  the  only 
hindrance  in  Tegid 's  way.  And  what  a  poor 


56  WONDER  TALES. 

hindrance  it  was !  He  felt  no  remorse,  but  moved  in 
vicious  hatred  because  he  could  not  quiet  this  feeble 
fore- warning  of  the  evil  that  shall  befall  all  wrong- 
doers. "  Curse  the  bird !  "he  exclaimed,  and  went 
away  to  lash  and  ill-treat  his  hard-worked  people. 

In  time  the  palace  was  finished,  and  the  eldest 
daughter  of  Tegid  was  of  marriageable  age.  She 
was  a  true  daughter  of  her  wicked  father,  and  her 
hand  was  given  to  a  mighty  lord  who  lived  beyond 
the  mountains.  Indeed,  there  was  not  one  of  the 
family  of  Tegid  the  Bald  who  was  lovely  and  of  good 
report.  Evil  they  were  born,  and  evilly  they  lived, 
ever  waxing  more  and  more  vile  and  base  as  the 
days  wore  on  and  they  grew  like  unto  their  sire. 
But  the  day  of  the  wedding  drew  nigh,  and  Tegid 
the  Bald  resolved  to  celebrate  the  event  by  throwing 
open  his  stately  palace  and  the  beautiful  grounds 
that  seemed  like  fairy-land. 

Thus  he  sent  invitations  far  and  wide  to  his 
friends,  and  when  the  day  dawned  there  were 
gathered  together  all  Tegid's  kith  and  kin,  all  his 
friends  and  companions,  all  those  who  had  joined 
in,  or  laughed  at,  the  ways  of  this  wicked  man. 
All  were  there;  not  one  was  missing. 

In  the  early  morning  Tegid  went  abroad  to  cast  a 


LLYN  TEGID.  57 

keen  eye  on  the  preparations  for  the  events  of  the 
noble  day.  With  cutting  word  and  heavy  hand  he 
passed  upon  his  way,  and,  as  he  walked  along,  a 
tiny  voice  overhead  piped  "  Vengeance  will  come! 
Vengeance  will  come !  ' :  With  an  evil  curse  Tegid 
glanced  upward  and  saw  the  tiny  bird  flutter  from 
twig  to  twig,  and  again  came  the  warning  sound. 
Then  the  remembrance  of  the  winged  messenger 
passed  from  Tegid's  mind  while  he  was  in  fierce  heat 
over  a  servant's  neglect,  and  afterwards  he  plunged 
headlong  into  mirth  and  merriment.  The  wine- 
bowl passed  from  mouth  to  mouth;  the  strains  of 
lovely  music  passed  richly  through  the  palace  rooms 
and  stole  without,  bathing  flowers  and  fruit  in  their 
melody ;  while  overhead  the  warm  sun  passed  on  its 
daily  journey,  glancing  with  seeming  indifference 
upon  the  glittering  display  of  man's  magnificence. 
Away  on  the  hill-side  the  peasants  gloried  in  at  least 
a  few  hours'  respite  from  the  sting  and  fury  of 
Tegid's  evil  nature. 

Noontide  came  and  passed  away;  afternoon,  with 
its  soft  languor,  yielded  to  golden  eventide ;  and  the 
even  with  its  brief,  soft  light  bowed  low  and  sank 
into  the  silvery  calm  of  the  early  night. 

An  old  and  toil-worn  harper  was  threading  his 


58  WONDER  TALES. 

way  through  the  lonely  world.  As  he  passed  along 
the  village  street  he  asked  a  woman  at  a  cottage 
door  if  there  were  any  mansions  near  by  where  he 
might  get  some  food  and  shelter  for  the  night.  She 
looked  at  him  gravely,  and  often  casting  her  eyes 
about  to  see  that  none  was  listening,  she  whispered, 
"  Go  away,  old  harper,  as  soon  as  you  may.  This 
place  is  evil  and  there  is  no  reward  here  save  that  of 
the  whip  and  cruel  word,  or,  perchance,  even  worse. 
Go  speedily  away!  "  Then  she  turned  and  went 
within.  The  poor  old  man  knew  that  he  must  eat  or 
die,  and  failing  to  get  sustenance  at  the  village, 
he  came  at  length  to  the  palace  grounds,  and  heard 
the  sound  of  music  and  dancing. 

Such  a  scene  met  his  faded  old  eyes  as  he  had 
never  beheld  before.  The  moonlight  poured  down 
upon  the  giant  outlines  of  the  palace  and  silvered  it 
with  many  a  glimmering  line  of  trembling  light. 
The  windows  glowed  with  the  warm  hue  of  lamp  and 
candle  light;  and  shrub  and  tree,  sparkling  with 
pendent  decorations,  seemed  each  a  little  star-set 
firmament,  so  many  were  the  lights  that  shone  for 
the  guidance  of  the  dancers.  Brave  lords  and  lovely 
ladies,  clothed  in  silks  and  satins  of  many  a  dazzling 
tint,  passed  laughing  on  their  way,  or  moved  in 


LLYN  TEGID.  59 

stately  measures  to  the  strain  of  the  music  that 
streamed  from  the  banqueting  hall. 

The  soul  of  the  harper  revived  as  he  heard  the  lilt 
of  the  music,  and  in  response  he  took  up  his  harp, 
and  played.  A  servant  brought  him  food  and  wine. 
Then  he  played  again.  As  his  fingers  wandered 
tenderly  over  the  strings  while  he  sat  among  the 
trees,  he  heard  a  note  sound  overhead,  and,  looking 
up,  he  saw  a  little  bird,  with  ruffled  plumage, 
moving  from  twig  to  twig;  and  as  he  looked  he 
loved  it.  The  little  creature  bent  its  head  to  one 
side  and  sang  its  monotonous  song,  "  Vengeance, 
vengeance!  " 

It  seemed  to  the  old  man  that  the  tiny  creature 
was  beckoning  him  to  follow.  So  he  arose,  and 
moved  towards  it;  and  again  the  bird  uttered  its 
warning  and  travelled  still  further,  while  the  aged 
harper  followed.  If  for  a  moment  he  stopped,  the 
note  became  more  insistent,  and  seemed  even 
sorrowful  and  heart-breaking.  So  they  went  on, 
and  at  last  the  harper  stood  at  the  top  of  a  lofty  hill 
far  away  from  the  gay  palace,  far  away  from  the 
merry  music,  where  he  was  alone  with  the  bird. 
And  now  he  felt  his  fatigue  come  again,  so,  laying 
his  harp  upon  the  ground,  he  kissed  it,  bidding  it 


60  WONDER  TALES. 

good-night,  according  to  his  custom.  He  sank  down 
to  welcome  peaceful  slumber,  broken  only  by  the 
murmurs  of  a  babbling  brook.  Yet  before  he  could 
sleep  there  shot  into  his  remembrance  the  taste  of  the 
food  and  wine,  and  the  shimmer  of  the  glories  he 
had  so  easily  abandoned.  Then  he  arose,  and 
eagerly  sought  the  downward  path.  But  he  could 
not  find  it  again.  In  vain  he  wandered  on  the  hill- 
side in  the  endeavour  to  return,  till  at  last,  perforce, 
he  had  to  lie  down  and  sleep. 

When  he  awoke  his  eyes  were  turned  towards  the 
valley  of  Tegid  the  Bald.  He  was  amazed  at  what 
he  beheld,  and  rubbed  his  eyes  to  make  sure  that  he 
dwelt  in  the  land  of  reality,  and  was  not  a  traveller 
in  the  realm  of  sleep.  No,  indeed,  he  was  wide 
awake,  and  what  he  saw  was  the  accomplishment  of 
the  foretelling  of  the  tiny  messenger.  Below  him 
lay  the  wide,  smooth  surface  of  a  lake.  So  calm  it 
looked  as  it  reflected  the  morning  light  that  one 
might  have  supposed  it  had  been  there  for  ever.  But 
the  harper  knew  that  this  was  not  so.  In  the  short 
hours  of  one  calm,  summer  night  the  water  had 
swallowed  up  the  evil  years  of  the  life  of  Tegid  the 
Bald,  and  all  the  wearisome  labour  that  he  had 
enforced. 


LLYN  TEGID.  61 

So  lies  Bala  Lake,  over  the  scene  of  iniquity,  and 
the  Palace  of  Tegid  is  fanned  no  more  by  the  soft  airs 
of  the  day;  yet,  once  upon  a  time,  when  a  boatman 
was  plying  his  oars  one  moonlight  night,  he  ceased 
to  row  and  let  his  craft  drift  on  into  stillness  and 
silence.  Then  as  he  gazed  into  the  waters,  he 
plainly  saw  the  massive  towers  and  glint  of  the 
marble  walls,  while  a  faint  cadence  reached  his  ears, 
the  sound,  as  it  were,  of  the  tiny  bird  piping  its  sad 
message,  "  Vengeance  will  come!  Vengeance  will 
come!  " 


DAFYDD  MEURIG  OF  BETWS  BLEDRWS. 

of  Bettus 
A    LEGEND    OF    KING    ARTHUR.  Bledrus. 

JAFYDD  was  not  always  a  willing  boy. 
Indeed  he  must  have  been  very  trying 
at  times  to  his  parents ;  but  they  were 
very  patient  and  would  never  have 
driven  him  away  from  the  farmhouse  at  Betws 
Bledrws.  No,  Dafydd  left  home  of  his  own  accord. 
And  it  happened  in  this  way. 

Owen  Meurig,  his  father,  went  out  one  morning 
very  early  in  order  to  lead  the  flock  to  fresh  pastures. 
Dafydd  ought  to  have  been  up  early  enough  to 
accompany  his  father;  but  Owen  said,  "  I  cannot 
wait  for  the  lazy  fellow,  and  I  haven't  time  to  go  and 
pull  him  out  of  bed.  Send  him  after  me  directly  he 


DAFYDD  MEURIG.  63 

comes  down !  "     Then  he  went  off  to  lead  the  sheep. 

Some  time  afterwards  down  came  Dafydd 
yawning  like  a  dog. 

"  Where's  my  breakfast  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No  breakfast  for  you,  my  son,  this  morning," 
said  the  mother.  "  If  you  cannot  get  down  soon 
enough  to  help  your  father  with  the  sheep  you  must 
march  on  an  empty  stomach. " 

Then  all  Dafydd's  sleepiness  disappeared. 
Anger  took  its  place  instantly. 

"  If  you  don't  let  me  have  breakfast,"  he 
shouted,  "I'll  run  away  and  never  come  home  any 
more!  " 

Now  his  mother  thought  he  was  speaking  louder 
than  his  intention,  so  she  answered  very  quietly  : 

"  Good-bye,  Dafydd,  I  hope  you'll  be  in  a  better 
temper  when  you  do  come  back." 

Dafydd  walked  out  of  his  home  without  another 
word. 

When  his  father  returned  at  night  there  was  no 
Dafydd  to  be  seen ;  although  the  neighbourhood  was 
searched  high  and  low,  yet  the  lad  was  not  discovered 
anywhere.  He  had  completely  disappeared,  and 
we  must  follow  him  on  his  travels  to  see  what  strange 
adventures  fell  to  his  share. 


64  WONDER  TALES. 

Dafydd,  in  spite  of  all  his  laziness  and  wilful 
ways,  was  not  a  bad  boy  at  heart.  He  had  some 
very  good  points,  and  one  of  these  was  a  desire  to 
find  out  a  reason  for  everything.  He  also  wanted 
to  know  more  of  the  world,  and  for  some  time  it  had 
been  his  intention  to  ask  his  parents  to  let  him  go 
out  and  earn  his  living  elsewhere.  But  very 
foolishly  he  kept  his  longing  silent  in  his  heart,  and 
never  said  a  word  to  his  father  and  mother,  who  were 
very  kind  people  and  would  have  done  all  they  could 
to  humour  the  wayward  lad.  So  Dafydd  had  gone 
on  day  by  day  with  his  desire  swelling  in  his  heart 
like  a  kernel  in  a  husk,  and  now  in  this  cruel  manner 
he  ran  away  from  home. 

As  he  tramped  on  he  felt  more  and  more  sorry, 
yet  more  resolved  not  to  go  home  and  eat  humble 
pie .  "  I  '11  go  to  London, '  *  said  he  to  himself,  ' '  and 
see  that  wonderful  bridge  that  people  talk  about  so 
much."  So  he  cut  himself  a  staff  from  a  hazel-tree 
on  a  hill-side,  and  on  he  went.  Yet  before  Dafydd 
got  to  London  he  had  found  the  world  a  very 
different  place  from  what  he  had  imagined  it  to  be 
in  his  home  in  Wales.  He  soon  saw  how  good  his 
parents  had  been  to  him.  He  had  to  work  hard  to 
earn  a  crust ;  and  there  was  no  more  late  sleep  in  the 


DAFYDD  MEURIG.  65 

morning.  If  he  had  not  had  a  brave  heart,  Dafydd 
would  have  turned  home  again.  But  no;  he  had 
resolved  to  go  to  London,  and  there  he  at  last 
arrived. 

Dafydd  lived  in  London  for  several  years,  but  his 
heart  ever  turned  towards  home.  This  was  especially 
so  on  Sunday,  when  he  was  free  from  hard  work, 
and  had  leisure  to  walk  about  and  think.  He  often 
remembered  the  old  folk,  the  pleasant  farm  on  the 
green  hill-side,  and  the  wide  backs  of  the  grim,  old 
mountains  standing  in  silence  here  and  there.  When 
he  was  very  lonely  he  went  to  that  wonderful  bridge, 
not  nearly  so  wonderful  as  people  had  made  out, 
yet  quite  wonderful  enough  to  interest  Dafydd ;  for 
he  loved  to  watch  the  water  rushing  by  the  pillars, 
and  to  see  the  boats  and  ships  coming  and  going  on 
the  broad  breast  of  the  river. 

One  day,  as  he  leaned  over  the  parapet  watching 
the  busy  scenes,  a  voice  said  in  his  ear  : 

"  Whence  do  you  come,  young  friend?  " 

Dafydd  turned  and  saw  an  Englishman  looking 
at  him  with  quizzical  eyes,  and  so  he  replied  some- 
what sullenly : 

"  I  come  from  my  own  country." 

"  Quite  so,"  replied  the  other;  "  but  do  not  be 


66  WONDER  TALES. 

vexed  with  me,  and  answer  my  questions  frankly, 
for  if  you  do,  you  will  not  be  sorry." 

"  Well,"  said  Dafydd,  "  what  do  you  want  to 
know?  " 

"  Where  did  you  get  that  hazel  stick?  "  asked 
the  stranger. 

Dafydd  told  him  he  had  cut  it  from  a  tree  by  the 
road-side  not  far  from  his  home  at  Betws. 

"  Can  you  remember  the  exact  spot  ?  "  asked  the 
Englishman. 

"  Yes,"  said  Dafydd,  "  I  can." 

"  Then,  my  friend,  your  fortune  is  made;  for 
that  stick  in  your  hand  grew  on  a  spot  under  which 
are  hidden  treasures  of  gold  and  silver.  If  you  do 
indeed  remember  the  place,  and  can  conduct  me  to  it, 
I  will  put  you  in  the  way  of  being  the  richest  man  in 
Wales." 

Dafydd  looked  his  man  straight  in  the  face.  He 
had  lived  long  enough  in  London  to  know  that  he 
could  not  trust  everybody,  and  he  wondered  whether 
this  stranger  was  trying  to  deceive  him ;  but  no,  his 
eyes  were  frank  and  open,  and  Dafydd  guessed  that 
he  was  one  of  those  who  know  many  hidden  secrets, 
who  can  read  the  stars,  and  who  know  where  the 
water  flows  in  the  depths  of  the  earth.  So  he  said, 


DAFYDD  MEURIG.  67 

"  Let  us  go  now,  then,  at  once,  and  I  will  show 
you  where  I  cut  this  stick." 

Therefore  Dafydd  and  the  stranger  journeyed 
together  down  to  Wales,  to  the  old  hazel-tree 
growing  by  the  road-side. 

It  was  night  time  when  they  came  along  the  road 
leading  to  Betws,  and  the  twinkling  stars  dotted  the 
deep  blue  sky  as  white  anemones  tremble  in  the 
midst  of  blue-bells  in  the  woods  when  spring  sings 
over  the  hill-side.  The  old  hazel-tree  grew  at  the 
foot  of  a  rocky  mass  called  Craig-y-Ddinas,  and  in 
the  darkness  it  looked  like  some  gaunt,  old  creature 
of  the  hills  leaning  in  anger  across  the  road,  with 
its  arms  above  its  head  ready  to  strike. 

"  This  is  the  tree,"  said  Dafydd. 

"  Well,  then,  here  we  must  dig,"  replied  his 
companion;  and  they  set  to  work  with  a  will, 
digging  under  the  spreading  roots  of  the  gnarled 
hazel-tree. 

Soon  they  struck  upon  something  hard  under  the 
soil.  It  was  a  broad,  flat  stone,  and  when  they 
raised  it  they  saw  that  it  had  covered  a  passage 
which  led  deep  down  into  the  hill-side.  Dafydd  now 
thrilled  with  excitement,  and  his  comrade  also  was 
nearly  as  excited  as  he. 


68  WONDER  TALES. 

"Are  you  afraid  to  come  down  with  me?  "  he 
asked. 

"  Not  I,"  answered  Dafydd,  and  down  they  went 
in  the  gloomy  depths. 

Then,  as  they  proceeded  in  dread,  they  became 
aware  that  their  feet  were  treading  on  well-carved, 
stone  steps,  and  gradually  light  appeared  from  great 
lamps  hung  in  the  rocky  roof  overhead.  They  went 
on  and  on,  along  the  well-lit  stone  passage,  green 
with  age,  and  lo !  to  Dafydd's  surprise  they  came  to 
a  huge  silver  bell  that  hung  low  on  a  silver  chain 
from  the  rocks  above.  The  Englishman  paused  and 
touched  Dafydd's  arm. 

"  Tread  carefully  to  one  side,"  said  he,  "  and 
on  no  account  touch  that  bell,  or  you  will  have  reason 
to  be  sorry." 

So  they  passed  very  carefully,  and  soon  the 
passage  led  them  to  an  enormous  cave,  which  opened 
out  like  a  well-built  hall  in  the  very  heart  of  Craig-y- 
Ddinas.  Overhead,  and  around  the  walls,  flashed 
hundreds  of  lamps  of  massy  silver,  and  their  rays 
fell  on  a  sight  such  as  man  had  surely  never  seen 
before. 

All  about  the  floor  of  this  spacious  hall  lay  the 
figures  of  mighty  warriors  fully  clothed  in  perfect 


DAFYDD  MEURIG.  69 

armour,  and  each  warrior  was  in  deep  repose.  That 
they  were  not  dead  but  merely  sleeping  Daf  ydd  could 
easily  see  by  the  rising  and  falling  of  their  broad 
chests,  and  by  the  movement  of  their  beards  as  the 
breath  of  their  nostrils  passed  over  them. 

Each  man  was  of  giant  build,  and  their  arms, 
bare  to  the  elbow,  looked  hard  and  tough  as  steel. 
The  light  fell  on  breastplate  and  hauberk,  lance  and 
buckler,  helm  and  corselet,  so  that  armour  and 
weapons  glinted  in  the  rays.  Away  in  the  far 
distance  stood  a  table,  round  and  fashioned  from 
marble  of  rich  and  varied  vein.  Seated  about  this 
table  were  thirty-and-one  mighty  forms  of  men. 
Yet  of  their  number  there  was  one  of  far  mightier 
mould  than  the  others.  He  sat  in  an  old-fashioned 
chair,  with  his  head  resting  on  his  left  hand.  On 
the  table  just  before  him  lay  a  sword  that  looked  like 
a  gleam  of  lightning,  so  brilliantly  it  flashed,  and 
at  his  side  stood  a  shield  as  massive  as  an  oaken  door. 
Near  him  lay  a  huge  hound.  The  warrior  sat  thus 
in  majesty,  with  his  long,  silvery  beard  sweeping 
the  table,  while  his  large  right  hand  lay  like  a 
thunderbolt  before  him.  Near  it  rested  a  crown  of 
gold  set  with  many  a  gleaming  gem.  His  eyes  were 
closed.  Daf  ydd  was  fain  to  look  away  lest  those 


70  WONDER  TALES. 

lids  should  open  and  the  awful  eyes  flash  their  stern 
light  upon  him.  But  silence,  as  of  death  itself, 
lay  upon  everything. 

In  the  midst  of  this  hall  stood  two  large  heaps, 
one  of  gold  and  the  other  of  silver,  and  the  stranger 
whispered  cunningly  to  Dafydd  that  he  might  take 
what  he  would  from  the  one  or  the  other,  but  not 
from  both  the  heaps.  In  trembling  haste  the  youth 
obeyed.  Yet  his  companion  did  not  so  much  as 
touch  a  coin,  for  he  murmured  something  about 
knowledge  being  better  than  riches,  and  stood  and 
looked  with  a  curious  eye  upon  the  scene.  When 
Dafydd  had  laden  himself  so  that  he  could  not  carry 
another  piece  of  gold,  they  stepped  noiselessly  from 
that  hall  of  sleep,  and  reached  the  passage.  Again 
the  stranger  warned  Dafydd  not  to  touch  the  bell; 
and  so  they  passed  into  the  open  air,  and  stood 
beneath  the  clear  sky. 

The  grey  dawn  was  just  showing  the  dim  outlines 
of  the  mountains  as  the  two  parted,  Dafydd  to  go  to 
his  home,  and  the  stranger — no  one  can  tell  whither. 
Yet,  before  they  separated,  they  replaced  the  stone 
and  the  earth  beneath  the  roots  of  the  hazel-tree. 

Then  the  man  said : 

"  You  may  perchance  use  your  gold  with  lack 


DAFYDD  MEURIG.  71 

of  wisdom,  although  with  prudence  you  have 
abundance,  nay  more  than  enough  for  a  lifetime. 
Be  wise  and  go  not  again  to  the  cavern.  Yet,  should 
you  go,  remember  this :  That  bell  stands  waiting, 
waiting  ever  to  call  the  mighty  King  Arthur  and  his 
knights  and  warriors  to  drive  the  Saxons  from  the 
land,  what  time  the  Cymry  are  in  need  of  their 
services.  If  you  should  chance  to  rouse  the  awful 
clamour  of  the  bell,  the  whole  host  would  rise,  and 
with  a  shout  fit  to  shake  Craig-y-Ddinas,  would  cry, 
'  is  IT  DAY  ?  '  Then  you  must  reply  at  once,  '  No ! 
it  is  not  day,  sleep  on.'  Thus  only  will  you  escape 
unscathed.  For  they  sleep  till  the  hour  when  the 
Black  Eagle  and  the  Golden  Eagle  shall  go  to  war, 
and  the  loud  tones  of  the  silver  bell  shall  cause  the 
earth  to  tremble  and  their  hosts  to  pour  forth  to 
re-possess  the  Isle  of  Britain." 

Great  was  the  joy  at  Betws  Bledrws  when 
Dafydd  returned  to  the  old  people.  He  told  them 
of  his  life  and  fortune,  and,  as  he  was  now  wise  and 
old  enough  to  settle  down  to  his  occupation,  he  lived 
quite  happily  in  the  old  farmhouse.  As  time  went 
on  he  married,  and  his  children  gladdened  the  fields 
with  their  merry  shouts.  Yet  Dafydd  would  often 
stand  and  look  far  away  to  where  Craig-y-Ddinas 


72  WONDER  TALES. 

rose  gaunt  and  craggy  against  the  sky.  He  thought 
of  what  lay  beneath  that  rocky  mass,  and  of  the  sleep 
of  silence  in  the  spacious  hall.  Then,  at  times,  a 
voice  would  say,  "  Go  and  fetch  more  gold !  "  Yet 
he  did  not  dare,  so  awesome  was  the  remembrance  of 
those  slumbering  warriors,  and  of  that  mighty 
majesty  seated  in  the  carven  chair. 

The  years  passed  on,  and  ever  and  again  the 
voice  spoke  in  Dafydd's  ear,  till  at  last,  one  evening, 
taking  mattock  and  a  sack,  he  stole  away,  saying 
nothing  of  his  intention  to  anyone.  As  soon  as 
night  fell  he  set  to  work.  There  sure  enough  was 
the  broad,  flat  stone,  and  beneath  it  the  open 
passage-way  to  the  mighty  hall.  His  heart  failed 
him,  yet  he  looked  at  the  sack  and  pressed  forward. 
Light  again  stole  mysteriously  on  his  sight,  lighting 
a  pathway  to  the  silver  bell.  There  it  hung !  He 
crept  by  with  nervous  care  so  that  he  should  not  so 
much  as  let  his  breath  fall  upon  it.  Once  again  he 
stood  in  the  midst  of  those  mighty  warrior  forms, 
this  time  the  only  wakeful  person  there,  and  he 
trembled  violently  as  he  drew  near  to  the  golden  pile. 
Yet,  as  his  fingers  touched  the  gold  his  heart  revived 
and  full  soon  he  had  filled  the  sack,  yes,  filled  it  to 
the  utmost,  so  that  he  could  not  close  it,  but  had  to 


DAFYDD    MEURIG 

"Yet,  as  his  fingers  touched  the  gold  his  heart  revived,  and  full 
soon  he  had  filled  the  sack." 


DAFYDD  MEURIG.  73 

grip  one  side  of  the  mouth  with  both  hands  as  he 
carried  it  over  his  shoulder. 

Thus  he  staggered  out  with  haste,  never  glancing 
backwards  till  he  reached  the  passage.  Then, 
indeed,  his  breath  came  again,  and  he  went  on  with 
less  fear.  Alas  for  Dafydd!  As  he  reached  the 
bell,  he  stepped  needfully  aside  lest  he  should  touch 
its  silver  walls.  He  himself  did  not  touch  it,  nor  did 
his  sack,  but  one  heavy  golden  piece  tumbled  side- 
ways from  the  sack,  and  fell  upon  the  awful  bell ! 

One  long,  silvery  note  swept  up  and  down  the 
passage  as  though  an  archangel  had  touched  a  string 
of  his  harp  with  warning  hand. 

Forthwith  there  was  a  stir  and  a  bustle,  and  a 
murmur  as  of  a  rising  tempest.  From  iron  throats 
came  the  mighty  cry  : 

"  Is  IT  DAY  ?      IS  IT  DAY  ?  ' ' 

Iron-shod  feet  came  thundering  upon  the  stone 
floor  of  the  passage.  So  they  rushed,  thronging  in 
haste  and  eager,  to  where  the  miserable  Dafydd  stood 
tongue-tied  and  forgetful  of  all,  save  his  horror,  as 
the  sweat  dropped  from  his  white  face.  They  came 
and  stood  towering  around  him,  mighty  warriors, 
angry,  and  roused  from  sleep.  Their  flashing  eyes  lit 
upon  the  sack  as  it  lay  mouthing  out  its  contents 


74  WONDER  TALES. 

beneath  the  silver  bell;  and  then  they  knew. 

' '  Slay  the  caitiff !  ' '  quoth  one. 

But  a  voice,  as  it  were  of  the  silver  bell  itself, 
came  through  the  pent  air  of  the  passage  : 

"  Slay  him  not !  "  and  Dafydd's  eyes  turned  to 
where  that  awful  form  stood  like  some  peerless 
headland  above  a  raging  storm.  "  Slay  him  not, 
but  cast  him  out.  For  it  is  not  yet  day,  and  we  must 
sleep  long  in  our  slumbers.  Nevertheless,  close  the 
entrance  that  we  be  not  again  awakened  till  that 
dawn  appears." 

Then  King  Arthur  turned  and  passed  again  into 
the  hall,  and  the  sword  Excalibur  gleamed  in  the 
darkness  as  the  lightning  flashes  across  a  stormy 
sky. 

So  they  led  Dafydd  to  the  entrance.  Yet,  ere 
they  cast  him  out,  one  giant  warrior  struck  him  a 
blow  that  crushed  him  like  the  fall  of  a  huge  oak- 
tree.  Dazed  and  bruised  he  lay  without,  while  the 
stone  was  drawn  back  to  its  resting  place. 

As  long  as  Dafydd  lived  he  was  a  cripple.  It  is 
said  that  when  the  news  of  his  disaster  spread 
abroad,  people  went  to  discover  the  Hall  of  Slumber 
in  the  Craig-y-Ddinas,  but  though  their  search  was 
thorough  they  could  not  discover  the  entrance  to 


DAFYDD  MEUBIG. 


75 


that  resting  place.  And  so  King  Arthur  sleeps 
undisturbed  till  the  Cymry  are  in  straits,  and  the 
great  bell  once  more  rings  its  silvery  warning  in  the 
silence  of  the  passage. 


the  Welsh. 


ELFOD  THE  PRIEST. 

VERYBODY  knew  Elfod  the  Priest 
and  everybody  loved  him  very  much. 
He  was  such  a  fine-looking  old  man. 
His  hair  was  so  silvery  and  long,  his 
eyes  so  dark  and  tender,  and  his  smile  so  winsome. 
No  one  could  ever  remember  Elfod  saying  an  angry 
word,  except  when  Idris  Vychan  threw  a  sharp  stone 
and  cut  an  old  woman's  head.  Then  Elfod's  eyes 
looked  like  live  coals,  instead  of  deep  lakes  undei 
the  clear  open  sky.  If  a  child  had  some  tiny  trouble 
it  would  run  straight  to  Elfod  and  tell  him  all  about 
it,  and,  before  long,  one  might  see  Elfod  and  the 


ELFOD   THE   PRIEST.  77 

little  one  walking  hand  in  hand  quite  happily,  and 
all  the  trouble  was  forgotten. 

The  priest  lived  in  an  old  stone  house  at  the  very 
end  of  the  village,  just  where  the  mountain  came 
down  to  meet  the  valley.  In  front  of  his  house  a 
noisy  streamlet  played  all  day  long  among  the  round 
stones  that  tried  to  prevent  it  from  passing  Elfod's 
door.  They  could  never  keep  the  stream  quiet,  and 
no  one  could  ever  make  Elfod  rest.  He  was  always 
going  about  seeking  to  make  other  people  happy. 

No  one  else  dwelt  in  the  old,  grey  house.  Elfod 
lived  very  simply  on  fruit  and  berries,  and  drank 
water  from  the  laughing  stream.  Sometimes  people 
would  put  on  Elfod's  doorstep  something  nice  to  eat, 
and  then  run  out  of  sight  before  he  could  see  who  it 
was.  Usually,  about  ten  minutes  later,  some  poor 
man  or  woman  in  the  village  would  receive  a  visit 
from  Elfod  and  a  present  of  whatever  had  been  left 
on  the  priest's  doorstep. 

Now  the  time  drew  near  when  Elfod  felt  that  he 
was  growing  old,  so  old  that  he  soon  must  go  away 
to  the  angels,  and  he  bethought  him  that  no  one 
knew  anything  at  all  about  his  early  life.  People 
had  often  said  to  him  "  Where  did  you  live  when  you 
were  a  boy?  "or,  "  Who  were  your  father  and 


78  WONDER  TALES. 

mother  ?  "or,  perhaps,  some  wee  child  asked,  "  Who 
made  you  so  kind  and  good?  "  When  such 
questions  were  asked  the  dark  eyes  seemed  clouded 
with  tender  memory,  the  gentle  mouth  had  a  sad  line 
on  each  side  of  it,  and  once  a  little  girl  had  seen  two 
big  tears  run  down  the  wrinkles  on  Elfod's  face. 
So  generally  people  did  not  like  to  ask  such  questions, 
for  they  loved  above  all  to  see  him  smile.  And  now 
Elfod  felt  that  he  ought  to  tell  some  one  about  his 
early  days  before  he  left  the  village,  the  old  grey 
house,  the  chatter  of  the  stream,  and  went  away  to 
live  elsewhere.  So  he  called  together  several  of  his 
dearest  friends,  and  they  sat  down  under  some  oak- 
trees  which  grew  in  the  valley,  and  Elfod  spoke  to 
them  as  follows : 

"  My  mother's  name  was  Gwenllian,  and  I  was 
born  long  long  ago — I  do  not  know  how  long — in  the 
village  past  the  monastery,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
mountain.  My  parents  were  very  good  to  me,  and 
somewhat  spoiled  their  little  boy,  for  I  was  the  only 
child  in  the  family.  With  great  sorrow  I  confess 
that  I  did  not  return  their  love  as  I  should  have  done ; 
but  thought  simply  of  my  own  feelings  and  did  what 
pleased  myself.  My  father  owned  some  sheep,  and 
each  day  he  would  lead  them  forth  to  pasture  on  a 


ELFOD   THE   PRIEST.  79 

mountain  slope,  or  in  the  valley,  according  to  the 
time  of  year.  Very  often  as  I  grew  older  he  would 
take  me  with  him;  and,  at  first,  great  was  my 
pleasure  to  lie  and  see  the  tiny  white  clouds  run  like 
sheep  across  the  great  blue  field  of  the  sky,  or  watch 
the  sunlight  chase  the  shadows  over  the  slopes  and 
along  the  rounded  backs  of  the  old  grey  mountains. 
Best  of  all  I  loved  the  early  summer,  when  the  broom 
blossomed  yellow-gold  over  the  earth,  and  the  grass 
grew  rich  and  green,  luscious  for  the  sheep  to  browse, 
and  restful  for  the  eye  to  behold.  I  loved  the  swift 
flight  of  the  eagle,  yet  I  feared  his  swoop  upon  the 
valley.  From  one  spot  I  could  see  the  misty  blue  of 
the  distant  sea  lying  between  two  rugged  old 
mountains.  I  rejoiced  to  see  the  seasons'  colours 
spread  over  the  world,  and  hear  the  wind  whisper  as 
it  passed  by  on  some  busy  message. 

"  As  I  grew  older  I  became  restless,  and  then 
I  lay  no  longer  by  my  father's  side,  but  wandered  off 
alone  to  find  things  strange  and  new.  '  Who  can 
tell, '  thought  I,  '  but  that  some  day  I  may  chance 
to  discover  the  land  of  Hud-a-Lledrith  ?  '  And  so  Hid-a-iiedrith, 

charm. 

it  befell,  although,  to  be  sure,  I  never  really  thought 
that  such  would  be  my  fortune. 

"  One  day,  when  I  was  about  twelve  or  thirteen 


80  WONDER  TALES. 

years  old,  and  had  grown  thoroughly  tired  of  looking 
after  my  father's  flock  in  the  valley,  I  left  the  sheep 
and  entered  into  a  wood  of  oak,  and  ash,  and  thorn 
trees,  and  so  wilful  was  I,  so  heedless  of  my  parents' 
love,  that  I  strayed  alone  in  that  wood  for  two  days 
and  two  nights  without  taking  even  a  morsel  of  food. 
As  I  roamed  about  the  wood  there  came  to  me  two 
mannikins,  each  about  three  feet  high,  and  one  said 
to  me,  very  courteously  and  gently,  '  Come  with  us, 
Elfod,  and  thou  shalt  obtain  all  that  thy  heart 
desires.'  My  heart  beat  fast,  and  even  seemed  to 
dance,  as  I  answered  that  I  would  indeed  go  with 
them  and  that  I  rejoiced  to  do  so.  Then  I  followed 
after  them,  and  we  went  towards  the  mountain-side 
till  we  reached  a  fair,  broad  field.  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  it  was,  but,  at  a  certain  spot,  my  mannikins 
sank  down  through  the  sward,  and  with  their  merry 
eyes  fixed  on  mine  I  was  able  to  follow  mirthfully. 
Nor  was  it  long  before  we  came  to  rest  in  a  land 
glorious  beyond  compare,  and  as  strange  as  it  was 
beautiful. 

"  We  stood  in  a  realm,  calm  and  gracious,  where 
there  were  winding  rivers  running  clear  and 
sparkling  through  fields  full  of  cowslips.  These 
stood  tall  and  with  drooping  heads,  each  one 


ELFOD   THE   PRIEST.  81 

fragrant  as  the  very  breath  of  spring  when  it  steals 
among  the  fresh  green  woods.  They  seemed  to  smile 
at  me  and  fall  asleep  in  happiness.  '  Dear  flowers, ' 
I  said,  '  I  love  you  one  and  all !  '  Then  my  eyes 
fell  upon  fruitful  meadows  and  flowery  woods. 
Elsewhere  I  beheld  all  manner  of  luscious  fruits  of 
various  colours,  shapes,  and  sizes — fairer  than  any 
fruits  which  grow  in  this  cold  world.  Yet  though 
all  was  so  beautiful  to  see,  believe  me  when  I  tell  you 
that  the  realm  was  not  lit  by  the  light  of  any  sun. 
Bather  was  the  atmosphere  dark,  if  one  may  call 
that  sky  and  air  by  such  a  name. 

"  Around  me  came  people  like,  yet  unlike,  those  I 
saw  on  earth.  They  were  dwarfish  in  size,  but  so 
exquisitely  beautiful  to  behold  that  I  know  no  words 
to  tell  you  how  lovely  they  were.  Each  one  had 
golden  hair,  and  eyes  of  a  merry  limpid  blue,  while 
their  lips  were  like  the  rowan-berries  when  the  sun 
of  September  lingers  in  love  upon  the  mountain- 
side. Their  skin  was  soft  and  fresh  as  that  of  the 
red  trout  which  lies  in  the  swift  stream.  But,  for 
all  their  smallness  of  stature,  never  have  I  seen  such 
beings  for  courage.  Fleetfcoted  were  they  as 
the  lightning  which  leaps  from  mountain-top  to 
mountain-top.  They  rode  fiery  steeds  which  were 

G 


82  WONDER  TALES. 

not  much  larger  than  hares.  I  found  that  their 
food  was  very  simple,  and  consisted  mostly  of  apples 
of  all  kinds,  with  milk  and  roots,  soft  and  sweet  to 
the  taste. 

"  Then  there  was  another  thing  I  am  fain  to 
remember.  From  one  end  of  their  land  to  the  other 
no  noise  of  any  kind  was  heard.  Sweet  silence  lay 
sleeping  everywhere,  and  none  sought  to  disturb  her 
gentle  slumber;  speech  itself  was  silent,  nor  did 
there  ever  fall,  even  perchance,  a  curse  or  oath. 
Within  their  territory  they  would  not  suffer 
untruthfulness,  or  treachery.  So  I  dwelt  among 
them  with  great  respect  and  admiration.  Tender 
friends  were  they  to  me,  and  I  grew  to  love  them. 
Yes,  indeed,  and  one  fair  maiden  I  loved  as  a  man 
loves  the  first  blush  of  the  morning  sky  when  summer 
is  at  its  height.  Ceinwen  was  her  name;  and  she 
dwelt  with  her  people  beside  a  lonely  lake,  silvery 
and  broad. 

"  None  was  so  gentle  as  Ceinwen,  and  of  all 
those  fair  people  none  so  goodly  to  behold.  Her  hair 
was  golden  like  that  of  her  companions,  but  so  long 
and  silken  that  it  fell  about  her  in  a  golden  mist. 
Her  touch  was  as  gentle  as  the  fall  of  a  snowflake  on 
the  young  grass,  and  her  teeth  were  white  as  pearls, 


ELFOD   THE   PRIEST.  83 

and  as  lustrous.  She  wore  a  loose,  green  tunic  which 
fell  almost  to  her  slender  ankles,  leaving  uncovered 
her  snowy  neck  and  shoulders. 

'  When  hiraeth  first  snatched  at  my  heart,  I 
told  Ceinwen  and  she  put  her  soft,  white  arms 
around  my  neck,  and  then,  laying  her  tender  cheek 
by  mine,  whispered  that  love  was  sacred  and  that 
the  love  of  parents  was  a  gift  like  the  sun  in  winter. 
'  Go,  Elf od, '  quoth  she,  '  but  come  again  soon  to  the 
land  of  Hud-a-Lledrith !  '  For  the  inhabitants  of 
that  land  come  and  go  as  they  list,  yet  in  my  mind 
there  arose  the  thought  of  the  evil  of  my  native  land 
and  it  troubled  me  greatly.  I  longed  to  tell  my  kith 
and  kin  of  the  beauty  and  holiness  that  dwelt  in 
silence,  in  a  silent  and  sinless  world.  Oh!  the 
richness  of  that  world  !  Gold  and  silver  are  there  in 
such  abundance  that  the  children's  toys  are  made 
of  those  precious  metals,  and  the  land  flashes  forth 
their  gladsome  light  from  among  its  fair  flowers, 
while  rivers  run  glittering  over  gold  and  silver  beds. 

"  So  I  came  away,  yea,  friends,  I  came  away. 
When  the  time  of  my  departure  arrived,  they 
showered  precious  gifts  upon  me,  and  begged  me  to 
come  again.  With  my  hand  on  my  heart  and  with 
tears  in  my  eyes  I  gave  the  promise.  Promise! 


84  WONDEK  TALES. 

What  need  was  there  for  that,  when  among  these 
loving  folk  dwelt  my  Ceinwen?  And  was  I  not, 
after  my  long  sojourn,  one  of  them  already  ?  It  was 
but  the  desire  to  look  again  upon  my  parents'  faces, 
to  touch  their  dear  hands  once  more,  which  lured 
me  away.  I  said  that  I  should  long  every  hour  to 
come  again  to  my  beloved  land  of  Hud-a-Lledrith. 

"  I  gathered  together  the  presents  which  they 
showered  upon  me,  and  for  the  last  time  Ceinwen 
and  I  wandered  hand  in  hand  along  the  shore  of  the 
peaceful  lake.  How  well  I  remember  the  light  that 
streamed  from  her  faithful  eyes,  and  the  smile  that 
parted  her  tender  lips,  as  we  spake  of  our  joyful 
reunion  and  the  marriage  that  was  yet  to  be  I  We 
kissed,  and,  with  her  hand  in  mine,  she  murmured 
once  again,  '  Come  again  soon,  Elfod;  for  Ceinwen 
will  await  thee,  if  need  be  for  ever !  '  Then  she 
turned  from  me.  and  I  saw  tear  drops  fall  like  April 
showers  lit  by  sunbeams. 

'*  They  gave  me  a  silver  wand  and  bade  me  keep 
it  pure  and  fair;  after  which  they  sped  me  on  my 
way.  So  I  came  again  to  the  land  of  my  birth,  while 
everybody  spoke  of  Elfod,  seeking  to  learn  where  I 
had  sojourned.  Yet,  although  I  spoke  much  of  the 
goodness  and  glory  of  the  fair  land,  I  breathed  not 


ELFOD   THE   PRIEST.  85 

one  word  which  would  let  people  know  its  entrance, 
or  its  whereabouts.  But  I  told  my  mother  of  the 
riches,  the  masses  of  silver  and  gold,  the  rocks  of 
that  sweet  and  silent  land,  and  she  pressed  me  sore 
till  I  promised  to  come  again,  bringing  her  treasure 
that  would  be  beyond  the  dream  of  avarice. 

"  I  set  out  with  that  foolish  promise  on  my  lips, 
and  passed  through  the  wood  of  oak,  and  ash,  and 
thorn  to  find  the  portal  of  my  paradise.  Ha !  the 
woe  of  it — the  smart  of  it!  With  the  vision  of 
Ceinwen  before  me  beckoning  me  sweetly,  yet  could 
I  not  find  the  path  that  should  lead  me  to  her. 
Seek  as  I  might,  the  land  of  Hud-a-Lledrith  lay  I 
knew  not  where,  and  with  a  heart  cold,  and  heavy  as 
a  stone,  I  came  back  to  my  native  village. 

"  My  mother  met  me,  and  tears  fell  from  her 
sad  eyes.  '  Elfod,'  she  said,  '  scarcely  had  you 
gone,  after  you  had  promised  to  bring  me  wealth, 
when  two  little  men  leading  white  mules  came  to 
our  abode,  and  asked  for  you.  They  said  that  you 
had  lost  your  white  wand,  and  that  without  it  you 
could  NEVER  hope  to  enter  the  secret  place !  * 

"  Then,  friends,  I  knew  that  for  me  there 
remained  upon  earth  only  a  life  devoted  to  holy 
things;  so  I  entered  the  monastery,  and  was 


86  WONDER  TALES. 

anointed  with  the  sacred  oil.  Yet,  in  the  midst  of 
this  life  never  have  I  ceased  to  dwell  upon  the 
goodness  of  that  other  life,  the  wealth  of  love  which 
I  once  vainly  cast  away,  thus  rejecting  the  perfection 
of  the  Tylwyth  Teg.  O  my  Ceinwen,  my  dear  ones, 
when  shall  I  see  your  fair  smiles  in  the  silent  land  ?  " 

So  he  finished  speaking.  And  they  left  him  as  he 
sat,  with  his  head  bowed  low  upon  his  hands,  and 
the  story  passed  in  loving  words  from  lip  to  lip. 

One  night,  very  soon  after,  when  the  white  moon 
rode  full  and  clear  over  the  mountain-top,  people 
heard  the  sound  of  silver  bells  wafted  up  the  valley. 
Some  went  to  their  doors,  and  they  told,  thereafter, 
how  they  saw  faintly,  and  in  a  mist,  a  vision  of 
Elfod,  radiant  and  youthful,  hand  in  hand  with  an 
angel,  whose  golden  hair  lay  like  the  dusky  light  of 
sunset  around  her  lovely  form.  She  was  pointing 
upwards  to  the  sky,  and,  as  they  passed  along  amid 
the  sound  of  the  silvery  tones,  it  seemed  as  though 
the  wind  sighed  out : 

' '  Yea,  Elfod,  it  has  been  long,  but  now  you  have 
once  more  regained  the  silver  wand,  Beloved,  and 
there  shall  be  no  more  night  in  the  land  of 
Hud-a-Lledrith." 

Here  endeth  the  story  of  Elfod  the  Priest. 


THE   WYVERN. 

HE  people  of  Coed-y-Moch  were  always   Koid  «  m5ch> 

wood  of  the 

in  fear.  Never  for  a  single  moment,  pigs. 
night  or  day,  could  they  shake  off  the 
alarm  which  hung  about  them  like  a 
cloud.  And  the  cause  of  this  will  be  clear  as  our 
story  proceeds.  At  night  they  cowered  in  their 
houses  with  their  hands  pressed  to  their  ears  to  shut 
out  the  heartrending  screams  which  seemed  to  cut 
the  darkness  like  a  jagged  knife,  or  as  though  horned 
devils  raged  at  will  about  the  rugged  mountains 
towering  up  on  all  sides  of  the  valley.  When  day 
poured  its  cheering  light  upon  the  world  there  was 
no  respite  from  this  terrible  panic.  For,  even  in 
broad  daylight,  the  loathsome  winged  snake  came 


88  WONDER  TALES. 

and  went  at  its  will ;  yea,  and  worse  than  all  besides, 
lay  in  evil  ambush  for  any  who  might,  perchance, 
approach  its  gruesome  haunt.  Then  with  a  sudden, 
cruel  movement,  it  would  seize  in  silence  upon  its 
victim,  crush  life  from  the  writhing  limbs,  and 
bear  away  the  inanimate  form  for  food.  The  whole 
neighbourhood  lay  under  this  baleful  influence,  and 
like  weary  captives  looked  longingly  for  a  daybreak 
which  should  bring  deliverance. 

Sometimes  the  monster  lay  and  sunned  itself 
upon  the  pebbly  shores  of  Cynwch  Lake,  and  there, 
with  its  slimy  folds  all  uncoiled,  would  lie  and  gaze 
with  lacklustre  look  across  the  dancing  waves.  At 
times  one  could  see  it  creeping,  with  hateful,  stealthy 
movements,  here  and  there  upon  the  fertile  slopes  of 
Moel  Othrum,  jerking  its  cumbersome  form  into 

the  bare  hill 

uncanny  humps  as  it  made  its  way  in  quest  of  food,    of  othrum. 
and  leaving  a  slimy  track  behind  it.     To  this  day 
such    venom    remains    as    visible    poison    on    the 
mountain-slopes,  and  whoever  comes  thither  avoids 
placing  his  feet  upon  such  an  evil  spot. 

The  hunger  of  the  loathly  creature  passed  the 
comprehension  of  man  :  with  a  huge,  gaping  mouth, 
and  cavernous  belly,  the  Wyvern  seemed  to  have  no 
limit  to  its  powers  of  digestion,  and  its  wings  would 


THE    WYVERN.  89 

beat  with  lazy  enjoyment  as  it  lay  and  chewed  the 
red  food  of  its  choice.  Sometimes  in  its  greed  it 
would  swallow  a  lamb  at  a  gulp.  When  it  killed  a 
beast  it  bore  the  carcase  to  a  tree,  fastened  itself  by 
winding  its  tail  about  the  branches,  then,  placing  the 
victim  between  its  body  and  the  trunk  of  the  tree, 
twined  its  eager  length,  round  and  round,  closer  and 
closer,  till  the  animal  was  a  pulp  and  its  bones 
crushed  to  pieces.  Then,  with  slow  motion  of  its 
slavering  jaws,  the  Wyvern,  spreading  its  warm, 
slimy  body  over  the  soil,  sucked  the  goodness  from  its 
raw  food.  Yet  it  did  not  always  choose  flesh,  but 
stole  the  fruit  of  the  trees,  and  with  its  long  and 
whitish  tongue  stripped  the  orchards  almost  bare. 
It  flew  at  night,  and,  as  it  flew,  screamed  with 
soul-stirring  anguish  so  that  men  shuddered  to  hear 
the  sound.  Its  wings,  which  were  not  large  for  its 
bulk  of  body,  beat  the  air  with  a  dull  flap,  softly 
and  somewhat  noiselessly,  like  the  flight  of  an  owl. 
Its  glowing,  greenish  eyes  had  keen  and  penetrating 
sight,  for  often,  when  flying  high  in  mid-air, 
the  Wyvern  would  swoop  suddenly  upon  some 
unprotected  fold,  or  traveller  wandering  in  the 
darkness,  and  a  startled  scream,  only  too  quickly 
smothered,  would  tell  of  another  victim. 


90  WONDER  TALES. 

In  vain  men  offered  great  rewards  for  its 
destruction.  One  cunning  old  fellow,  the  wizard 
who  lived  in  Ganllwyd,  strove  earnestly  to  put  an  Ganii5id. 
end  to  these  terrible  sufferings.  For  many  nights 
and  days  he  pondered,  and  tried  to  devise  means  to 
slay  the  Wyvern,  and  he  was  thought  by  the  people  of 
those  parts  to  be  a  man  of  great  cleverness.  When 
the  Lord  of  Nannau  cried  that  he  would  give  three- 
score head  of  cattle  to  him  who  slew  the  evil  creature, 
and  others  came  forward  and  named  valuable  gifts 
which  they  would  add  as  a  reward  for  the  terrible 
feat,  this  clever  old  man  strove  more  eagerly  to  win 
the  wealth.  But  all  his  efforts  were  unavailing. 
The  woeful  wailing  still  pierced  the  night,  and  by 
day  the  distant  yet  visible  form  of  the  Wyvern  spread 
menace  from  the  mountainside.  Then,  also,  to  make 
matters  worse,  the  Wyvern  was  growing  older 
and  more  wary,  and  to  entrap  it,  or  slay  it,  became 
daily  a  task  of  greater  difficulty.  To  hear  its  great 
body  hurtle  through  the  darkness,  dealing  woe  and 
evil  as  it  sped,  was  awful,  and  frequently  at  the 
sound  men  fell  swooning  to  the  earth.  Yet  what 
could  be  done? 

The  Wyvern  could  attract  animals  by  a  kind  of 
spell.      If  it  looked  into  the  eyes  of  a  beast,  that 


THE    WYVERN.  91 

creature  was  doomed.  Like  the  moth  which  circles 
around  a  candle  till  in  the  end  its  charred  body  falls 
a  voluntary  offering  into  the  flame,  so  every  creature 
that  gazed  upon  the  livid  green  eyes  of  this  winged 
snake  was  seized,  and  held  by  an  awful  fascination. 
With  an  indescribable  meekness  such  a  victim  went, 
step  by  step,  nearer  to  the  watching,  luminous  eyes, 
till  at  last,  intoxicated  by  some  unknown  power,  it 
passed  insensibly,  one  may  suppose,  into  the  soft, 
slimy  folds  of  the  expectant  Wyvern. 

Yet  the  cunning  Llwyd  of  Ganllwyd  prepared  a  usid,  grey, 
plan  whereby  he  might  slay  it,  or,  if  the  powers  so 
ordered,  catch  the  vicious  monster.  He  made  a  bold 
bid  for  its  blood,  and  in  this  wise.  Wales  had  long 
been  famous  for  its  archers.  Other  nations  copied 
the  skill  of  the  bowman's  craft  from  the  swift 
Welsh,  and  carried  the  knowledge  to  other  lands  to 
win  great  battles  against  their  foes.  So  old  Llwyd 
hired  a  dozen  of  the  keenest  archers,  men  whose 
arrows  sped  from  the  bow  as  a  lightning  flash  speeds 
from  the  dark  clouds  upon  the  trembling  earth,  and 
he  placed  them  on  many  a  crafty  coign  of  vantage. 
Yet  it  was  never  possible  to  catch  even  a  glimpse  of 
the  Wyvern  on  the  days  when  the  bowmen  were 
waiting.  It  was  as  though  some  subtle  knowledge 


92  WONDER  TALES. 

came  to  its  brain,  and  bade  it  beware.  So  the  plan 
of  Llwyd  came  to  naught,  and  the  Wyvern  still 
screamed  through  the  darkness  of  the  night.  But 
Llwyd  continued  to  frame  cunning  schemes,  and  the 
threescore  cows  were  so  rich  an  offer  that  every  man 
of  enterprise  in  that  district  desired  to  slay  or 
capture  the  winged  snake. 

Now  there  lived  among  the  shepherds  of  Cwm  Ku 
Blaen  y  Glyn  a  youth  whose  mind  leaped  towards  iey  <i  a^  «2 
the  prize  as  a  little  child  springs  joyfully  to  meet  its  of  the  glen- 
father.  He  was  not  yet  twenty-one  years  old,  and 
was  strong  and  sturdy  beyond  the  average  of  the  race 
of  man.  From  childhood  his  strength  had  risen  and 
swelled  with  him  as  the  life-giving  sap  toughens 
the  limbs  of  the  oak-tree,  and  Meredydd  was  known 
far  and  wide  for  his  prowess.  By  the  strength  of 
his  hands  alone  he  tore  open  the  gaping  mouths  of 
wolves,  or  wrenched  the  deep-seated  bough  from  the 
parent  tree.  At  wrestling  none  was  his  equal,  for, 
when  the  spirit  was  strong  in  his  heart,  he  had  the 
strength  of  many  men,  and  held  his  adversary  like  a 
little  child  in  his  grasp. 

Yet  Meredydd  was  gentle  withal,  and  used  his 
strength  only  for  righteous  purposes;  and  the 
thought  of  the  Wyvern,  and  the  evil  which  it 


THE    WYVERN.  93 

wrought,  burned  in  his  brain  red-hot,  giving  him  no 
rest  by  day  or  night.  When  he  heard  the  thrilling 
screams  pass  overhead  Meredydd  ground  his  white 
teeth  with  anger,  and  tossed  his  black  hair  with  the 
defiance  of  the  royal  beast  brought  to  bay. 

So  at  this  time  he  came  down  from  the  mountain, 
nor  said  one  word  to  man  of  his  intention,  for  he 
desired  that  the  purpose  of  his  heart  should  not  be 
known  till  the  deed  was  accomplished,  and  his  race 
rejoiced  in  deliverance.  For  Meredydd  feared 
failure.  Yes,  truly,  he  feared  it  as  some  craven 
returned  home  early  from  the  wars  might  fear  the 
mocking  laugh  of  man,  or,  still  worse,  the  shrill 
reproach  of  woman,  as  he  passed  to  and  fro  along 
the  streets  of  his  village  home.  Yet  he  told  the 
secret  to  one  fair  being,  although  he  spoke  not  a  word 
to  man,  and,  when  he  spoke  of  his  intention,  so 
modest  was  he  that  the  blush  came  to  his  swarthy 
cheek  as  the  rich  hues  of  sunset  are  ofttimes  flung 
with  strange  suddenness  across  the  western  sky. 
When  Ellyw  saw  that  sign  she  knew  that  purpose 
was  indeed  strong  in  Meredydd 's  heart,  and  that  she 
need  say  nought  to  encourage  or  dissuade  him.  Thus 
she  was  wise,  although  she  loved  him  with  all  the 
tenderness  of  the  springtide  of  life. 


94  WONDER  TALES. 

Ellyw,  therefore,  bent  low  her  fair  face  till  the 
golden  hair  hid  the  smile  of  pride  which  rippled 
around  her  lips,  and  said  simply  : 

"  Go,  Meredydd,  and  my  thought  and  my  heart 
will  keep  constant  company  with  your  absence.  Yet 
remember  the  words  of  the  cunning  man  of 
Ganllwyd,  when  he  said  that  whoever  would  slay  the 
Wyvern  must  wear  a  dress  of  steel.  Yea,  and  he 
added  that  whoever  approached  the  monster  without 
such  a  garb  would  speedily  pass  into  the  realms  of 
silence  where  sun  and  stars  are  for  ever  hidden." 

"  True,"  answered  Meredydd,  "  and  full  well  I 
know  the  words,  and  the  man;  and  I  have  thought 
long  and  anxiously  about  them,  as  I  sat  and  kept 
the  browsing  sheep  upon  the  mountain-side.  There 
are  men,  Ellyw,  whose  words  leap  from  their  mouths 
as  living  things  endowed  with  life  beyond  man's 
comprehension.  Llwyd  spake  thus,  and  knew  not 
what  he  said.  Nor  did  I  know  the  meaning  of  the 
utterances,  till,  having  cried  aloud  amidst  the 
silence  of  the  wise,  old  hills,  their  wisdom  spoke  in 
response  to  man's  eager  questioning  and  taught  me 
how  to  act.  I  shall  go  with  a  dress  of  steel,  but 
not  such  a  dress  as  Llwyd  described." 

So  they  parted.    Meredydd  passed  out  from  the 


THE   WYVERN.  95 

haunts  of  men,  having  for  company  his  two  faithful 
hounds  and  the  glorious  resolution  of  his  heart ;  while 
Ellyw,  the  daughter  of  Hafodfraith,  returned  to 
sojourn  with  her  kinsfolk.  dwelling 

The  world  is  full  of  courage  and  heroism.  We 
see  this  day  by  day.  Even  the  creatures  of  the  lower 
ranks  of  life  show  us  their  bravery.  Yet  whoever 
went  so  bravely  to  so  direful  a  deed  as  this  simple 
shepherd  lad  of  Cwm  Blaen  y  Glyn  ?  The  words  of 
the  wizard  and  the  thought  of  the  foe  each  strove  to 
make  his  path  heavy ;  while  the  bright,  blue  eyes  of 
Ellyw  shone  before  him  like  two  guardian  angels 
beckoning  him  onward.  Then,  too,  he  thought  of 
the  threescore  cows,  and  in  his  mind  he  heard  their 
lowing  as  they  came  home  at  nightfall  to  be  milked ; 
and,  as  he  remembered  the  little  white  farm  which 
stood  vacant  on  the  mountain  yonder,  he  peopled  it 
with  many  a  pleasant  thought  as  he  strode  onward. 
Yet  was  he  wary  and  wise,  nor  frail  in  his  purpose. 
By  the  side  of  the  pathway  he  had  chosen  stood 
the  Monastery  of  the  Standard,  whose  inmates  knew 
Meredydd  and  loved  his  merry  face  and  valiant 
form.  He  turned  in  at  the  gates,  passed  up  to  the 
entrance,  and  blew  loudly  upon  the  horn  to  tell  of 
his  arrival.  Then  the  kindly  old  priests  of  the 


96  WONDER  TALES. 

monastery  thronged  hastily  around  him,  asking  for 
news,  and  pressing  him  to  take  refreshments.  So 
he  sat,  and  talked,  and  fed  upon  the  food  they  placed 
before  him ;  yet,  when  he  rose  to  depart,  he  said  : 

"  Friends,  for  ye  are  indeed  friends  to  me,  trust 
me  and  help  me  in  my  hour  of  need.  Ye  are  kindly 
and  know  the  thoughts  which  assail  the  heart  of 
youth.  I  go  on  a  quest,  and  need  your  prayers.  So 
pray  for  me,  but  lend  me  also  the  glittering  axe 
which  fell  from  heaven,  and  rests  beneath  your 
altar." 

Then  the  eldest  and  most  saintly  of  the  priests 
looked  on  Meredydd  and  read  as  on  an  open  page 
the  secrets  of  his  resolve.  He  spake  no  word,  but 
rose  and  fetched  the  axe  carved  with  mystic  words 
and  said  by  men  to  have  fallen  from  heaven.  For, 
long  since,  it  was  found  one  morning  quivering  in 
the  oaken  door  of  the  monastery,  and  none  knew 
whence  it  came.  He  placed  the  weapon  in  the 
shepherd's  hands,  and,  looking  long  and  lovingly 
into  Meredydd 's  eyes,  said  : 

"  Go !  in  God's  name,  go !  and  our  prayers  shall 
rise  urgently  to  the  throne  of  heaven.  For  you  go 
upon  the  errand  of  mercy." 

Then  Meredydd  was  fain  at  heart,  nor  was  it 


THE   WYVERN.  97 

long  before  he  lit  upon  the  trail  of  the  Wyvern — a 
trail  which  lay  like  a  band  of  death  along  the  hill- 
side. It  was  near  Cynwch  Lake  he  saw  the  trail, 
and  he  followed  it  cunningly  and  withal  speedily, 
up  the  hill-slopes,  through  the  young  woods  merry 
with  the  greenery  of  spring  and  bright  with  the 
dancing  of  the  daffodils,  till  across  the  wood  he  came 
to  the  open  pastures  beyond.  There,  with  its 
slithering  coils  all  limp  in  sleep,  with  its  length  all 
along  a  milk-white  hawthorn  hedge,  lay  the  hateful 
Wyvern.  Thus  the  creature  rested  peacefully  amid 
the  blossoms  of  May,  as  sometimes  an  evil  thought 
will  lie  hidden  among  the  pure  resolves  of  youth, 
and  none  can  tell  that  it  is  there. 

So  vile  was  the  appearance  that  the  heart  of 
Meredydd  stopped  beating  at  the  sight;  and  he 
loathed  his  task !  Then  there  arose  the  memories  of 
the  cruel  past ;  and  the  thought  of  the  gentle  Ellyw, 
and  the  kindly  priests,  ran  through  his  brain  like 
crystal,  life-giving  drops  of  healing;  and  he  stole 
cautiously  towards  the  monster's  horrid  head. 

Now  as  Meredydd  had  passed  away  from  the 
monastery  he  knew  not  that  the  cunning  eye  of  Llwyd 
watched  him  from  the  old  hut  opposite  the  wood. 
Yet  so  it  was,  and  reading  resolution  in  the  young 

H 


98  WONDER  TALES. 

shepherd's  bearing,  Llwyd  had  tracked  Meredydd 
from  afar,  and  now  waited  the  issue  of  his  venture ; 
for  he,  too,  as  we  have  heard,  coveted  the  kine  and 
the  rich  rewards  which  should  fall  to  the  slayer  of 
the  Wyvern. 

But  Meredydd,  thinking  only  of  his  lofty  purpose 
and  the  patience  of  Ellyw  when  once  she  dug  him 
from  the  pit  into  which  he  had  fallen  while  searching 
for  a  lost  sheep  on  the  mountain,  went  all  the  more 
needfully  towards  the  foe.  He  felt,  with  skilful 
thumb,  the  keen  edge  of  the  axe,  and  knew  that  it 
would  not  fail  him.  Again  he  thought  of  the  loving, 
tireless  patience  of  Ellyw,  the  maid,  as  she  toiled  to 
save  his  life.  Once  more  he  heard  the  sob  of  her 
dear  breath  as  she  cleared  a  path  to  rescue  him,  and, 
at  the  thought,  his  spirit  rose  like  flame  before  the 
wind,  and  leaped  and  licked  around  his  heart.  Then 
the  knowledge  sped  into  his  brain  that  the  white- 
thorn was  one  mass  of  bloom,  and  that  nothing  on 
the  wide  earth  could  make  the  Wyvern  so  drunken 
with  rich,  swooning  sleep  as  the  heavy  odour  of  that 
fragrant  flower.  So  his  plans  grew  clearer  in  his 
mind,  the  cold  sweat  of  fear  dried  upon  him,  and  he 
felt  that  his  was  the  victory. 

He  crept  along  the  near  side  of  the  hedge  till  he 


THE    WYVERN.  99 

found  an  opening  near  the  Wyvern's  head;  yet,  even 
as  he  peeped  through  the  gap,  one  baleful,  green  eye 
unclosed  its  lazy  lid  and  looked  venomously  upon 
him.  But  sleep  closed  up  the  monster's  brain  as 
the  darkness  of  night  falls  upon  and  hides  the 
marshy  swamp,  and  Meredydd  crept  out  to  deal  the 
fatal  blow. 

As  he  passed  the  nostrils  of  the  Wyvern,  its  breath 
came  forth  as  the  pestilence  which  travels  by  night, 
and  Meredydd  well-nigh  sank  before  its  hateful 
stench  and  the  heat  of  its  passage.  But  he  recovered, 
rose  to  his  full  height,  and,  with  the  muscles  of  his 
arms  straining  like  steel  rods  under  the  grip  of  his 
hands  upon  the  haft  of  the  axe,  he  struck  a  blow  that 
sent  the  echo  throbbing  over  the  hill-side,  and  the 
head  of  the  Wyvern  fell  asunder  at  his  feet.  But  his 
peril  was  great,  for  the  death  agonies  of  that 
enormous  body  were  not  easy  to  avoid,  and  Meredydd 
could  not  leap  aside  before  the  writhing  tail  caught 
him  with  cruel  force  and  stretched  him  low  upon  the 
grass  of  the  meadow. 

Then,  as  he  lay  motionless  and  white  as  death, 
the  crouching  figure  of  Llwyd  crept  upon  the  scene. 
With  rapid  eye  he  took  in  the  details,  and  mad 
jealousy  seized  him.  Since  he  had  failed  to  slay  the 


100  WONDER  TALES. 

Wyvern  he  resolved  that  misery  should  dog  the  steps 
of  the  youth  whose  courage  and  simple  faith  had 
fairly  surpassed  his  own  skill  and  witchcraft.  But, 
as  he  stepped  forth  to  do  a  vile  deed,  he  saw  that 
Meredydd  opened  his  eyes,  and  raised  himself  upon 
his  elbow,  so  he  withdrew  to  the  shelter  of  the  wood, 
shaking  with  rage,  and  casting  in  his  mind  how  to 
bring  evil  upon  the  shepherd  lad. 

Meredydd  slowly  raised  himself.  He  felt  cold 
and  hot  by  starts,  then  a  chill  as  of  death  swept  over 
him,  and  he  knew  not  whether  he  lived  or  was  dead ; 
but  his  heart  revived  as  he  looked  upon  the  Wyvern 
and  recollected  the  deed  which  gave  him  the  rewards, 
and  Ellyw.  As  his  strength  and  courage  came  to 
him,  he  rose  to  his  feet,  and,  cutting  out  the 
monster's  tongue  as  a  token  of  victory,  he  bore  this 
and  the  axe  to  the  good  priests  of  the  Monastery  of 
the  Standard.  They  gave  him  wine,  and,  bidding 
him  rest,  made  haste  to  carry  the  good  news  far  and 
wide  to  the  people  of  Coed  y  Moch.  Ere  nightfall 
hundreds  of  rejoicing  eyes  gazed  greedily  upon  the 
hated  form  of  the  Wyvern,  and  the  glad  folk 
praised  the  shepherd  youth  who  had  delivered  them 
from  the  thrall  and  shame.  Men  wondered  at  the 
power  of  the  blow  which  had  cloven  that  enormous 


THE     WYVERN 

"Ere  nightfall   hundreds   of   rejoicing   eyes   gazed   greedily   upon 
the  hated  form  of  the  wyvern." 


THE    WYVERN.  101 

skull;  they  measured  out  the  Wyvern's  length  and 
marvelled  at  the  sharp-pointed  wings  now  drooping 
in  the  black,  oozy  blood  which  fell  in  heavy  gouts 
from  the  wound  and  flowed  slowly  down  the  slope  of 
the  hill.  On  the  morrow  they  dug  a  mighty  grave, 
and  with  great  difficulty  dragged  the  huge  winged 
snake  to  its  depths.  Above  the  grave  they  built  a 
cairn  to  mark  the  spot  where  Meredydd  won  his 
victory,  and  ever  since  that  day  the  hill  has  been 
called  the  Hill  of  the  Wyvern.  Men  call  the  cairn 
:<  The  Wyvern's  Grave,"  and  every  year  when 
spring  returns,  youths  and  maidens  go  forth  to 
garland  the  stones  with  sweet-scented  sprays  of 
whitethorn. 

But  at  the  Monastery  of  the  Standard  Meredydd 
lay  at  death's  door.  Many  a  visitor  called  to  see  the 
deliverer,  the  saviour  of  the  people  of  Coed-y-Moch ; 
but  the  priests  with  anxious  look  told  how  the  poison 
of  the  winged  snake  had  entered  the  blood  of  the 
shepherd  lad  so  that  he  lay  all  unconscious  of  the 
world,  and  spoke  words  which  had  no  meaning. 

Then  came  among  others  the  cunning  Llwyd  of 
Ganllwyd,  and  asked  for  news.  He  was  met  by  the 
worthy  old  Aneurin,  abbot  of  the  monastery,  whose 
eye  could  read  all  secrets.  And  when  Llwyd  knew 


102  WONDER  TALES. 

how  grievously  the  fever  held  Meredydd  a  baleful 
gleam  of  triumph  shone  from  his  eyes.  Yet  he  was 
not  aware  that  he  had  shown  his  delight  at  the  dire 
woe  of  the  young  shepherd.  But  the  old  abbot  saw 
it  and  knew  the  dangers  which  beset  Meredydd's 
path.  Still,  he  gave  a  courteous  welcome  to  the 
wizard,  and  praised  him  for  his  attempts  to  slay  the 
Wyvern.  Yea,  and  he  placed  before  him  good  meat 
and  comforting  drink,  so  that  Llwyd  departed  well 
satisfied  from  the  monastery. 

But  as  he  paced  down  the  path  to  the  entrance 
gates  the  abbot  watched  him  sadly  with  shaded 
eyes,  then,  shaking  his  head,  he  murmured,  "  'Tis 
well  the  lad  bides  with  us ;  but  are  there  others  whom 
Llwyd  can  injure?  Time  will  show.  Aye,  time 
will  show  us  everything. ' ' 


MEREDYDD. 

THE    SEQUEL    TO    "  THE  WYVERN." 


Mereddith 
(accent  on  the 
second 
syllable). 


O  the  good  priests  of  the  Monastery  of 
the  Standard  watched  carefully  over 
Meredydd,  and  brought  him  safely 
through  the  illness  caused  by  the 
evil  blows  and  venom  of  the  Wyvern.  They  knew 
of  medicinal  herbs,  they  insisted  on  rest,  and  they 
fed  him  with  good  homely  fare  till  his  blood  flowed 
rich  and  free  once  more. 

Then  the  word  went  round  that  Meredydd  was 
restored,  and  the  people  came  to  bring  him  his  gifts. 
Aye,  and  the  Lord  of  Nannau  came  himself,  and   NannaF. 
placed  the  threescore  of  cattle  under  the  charge  of 
the  priests  against  the  time  when  the  shepherd  youth 


104  WONDER  TALES. 

should  come  and  take  them  home.  So  many  gifts 
there  were  that  Meredydd  knew  that  from  henceforth 
he  was  no  longer  a  poor  shepherd,  but  could  take  his 
place  among  the  great  people  of  the  district,  and  he 
resolved  that  his  conduct  for  the  future  should  make 
it  possible  for  him  to  add  to  his  wealth. 

Amid  the  feasting  and  revelry  which  followed 
the  death  of  the  hateful  winged  snake,  Meredydd 's 
heart  was  loyal  to  the  past,  and  directly  he  grew 
strong  enough  to  move  his  limbs  freely,  he  longed 
the  more  to  go  to  show  himself  to  Ellyw.  What  was 
she  thinking  about  his  deed  ?  Did  she  wonder  at  his 
absence?  Why  had  no  message  come  from  Hafod- 
f raith  to  assure  him  that  all  was  well  ?  But  now  all 
folk  had  given  him  of  their  goodwill,  and  he  was 
free  to  go  from  the  monastery.  Yet,  before  he  went, 
Aneurin,  the  old  priest,  led  him  aside  and  whispered 
words  of  caution.  He  told  him  that  he  was  not  free 
to  speak  very  clearly,  but  he  knew  enough  to  bid  him 
be  on  his  guard  against  treachery.  So  Meredydd 
went  forth  to  seek  Ellyw. 

He  passed  blithely  over  the  road  he  had  traversed 
to  encounter  the  Wyvern.  Then  the  future  was 
unknown,  and  his  intentions  were  buried  in  his 
heart;  but  now  his  name  was  on  everybody's  lips, 


MEREDYDD.  105 

and  wealth  had  poured  in  by  reason  of  his  bravery. 
Just  as  before,  the  vision  of  Ellyw  shone  clearly  in 
his  mind,  and  he  longed  earnestly  to  see  her  once 
more.  One  word  of  praise  from  her  was  worth  all 
the  world  beside;  and  his  footsteps  became  more 
rapid  as  he  approached  the  haunts  so  familiar  to 
him. 

As  he  drew  near  to  Ellyw' s  house  he  could  almost 
hear  his  heart  beat,  so  deep  was  his  emotion;  but  her 
parents  met  him  before  he  reached  the  door,  and 
told  him  that  the  maiden  was  from  home. 

"  And  why  have  you  not  been  here  before  this, 
Meredydd?  "  said  her  mother. 

Meredydd  looked  at  her  in  astonishment. 

"  I  could  not  come,"  he  replied;  "for  I  have 
been  ill,  and  the  priests  of  the  Monastery  of  the 
Standard  have  been  restoring  me  to  life." 

The  parents  exchanged  glances,  they  began  to 
realise  that  the  stories  which  had  been  brought  to 
their  ears  were  false,  but  they  did  not  know  of  the 
hatred  of  Llwyd  of  Ganllwyd.  While  gladness 
abounded  among  men,  anger  and  bitter  resentment 
ruled  the  life  of  Llwyd  because  the  young  shepherd 
lad  had  carried  off  the  rewards  which  he  himself 
had  striven  to  obtain.  Yet  the  good  old  abbot  of 


106  WONDER  TALES. 

the  monastery  read  the  mischief,  and  knew  full  well 
that  the  wizard  would  strive  to  take  revenge  for  his 
imaginary  wrongs. 

The  three  people,  so  dear  to  one  another,  and 
each  so  anxious  for  the  absent  Ellyw,  stood  and 
talked  long  and  earnestly  about  the  events  which  had 
occurred,  and,  as  they  spoke,  the  matter  grew 
clearer.  Some  one  must  have  spread  a  wrong  report. 
It  had  been  told  at  Haf odfraith  that  Meredydd  had 
gone  to  spend  his  time  in  feasting  and  dancing 
among  the  people  at  Coed-y-Moch,  and  had  forgotten 
his  home  and  former  friends.  In  bitter  sorrow 
Ellyw  had  gone  away  to  spend  her  lonely  days  at  her 
sister's  home,  far  away  beyond  the  mountain;  and 
Meredydd,  with  her  parents'  advice,  departed  at 
once  to  seek  her  and  show  her  the  evil  that  had  been 
accomplished. 

So  he  went,  but  at  the  house  of  Ellyw's  sister  he 
was  once  more  disappointed.  Ellyw  had  set  out  for 
her  home  and  should  have  arrived  there  by  that  time. 
Meredydd  turned  away,  sad  at  heart,  and  without 
waiting  a  moment  bent  his  steps  homeward. 

A  thick  white  mist  had  fallen  like  the  skirts  of 
a  giant's  robe  over  the  heads  of  the  mountains,  and 
rolled  ever  lower  as  the  night  advanced.  A  strange 


MEREDYDD.  107 

foreboding  tore  at  Meredydd's  heart,  making  the 
way  weary  and  long;  but,  had  he  known  all,  his 
anxiety  would  have  been  increased  tenfold.  Ellyw 
had  not  arrived  home,  for,  by  the  arts  of  Llwyd, 
she  had  wandered  far  and  wide  from  her  proper 
path.  All  through  the  day  she  had  striven  to 
retrace  her  steps,  but  the  difficulties  increased  as  her 
strength  grew  less;  and,  after  many  weary,  lonely 
hours,  she  sank  down  sadly  upon  a  flat  rock,  and 
sobbed  bitterly. 

As  she  sat  thus  Llwyd  appeared,  and,  with  an 
evil  leer,  told  her  that  Meredydd  was  unfaithful  to 
her,  that  he  was  at  Coed-y-Moch,  feasting  and 
merrymaking  with  the  people,  and  made  much  of 
by  the  maidens. 

"  Aye,  and  it  is  said,"  quoth  Llwyd,  "  that  his 
heart  has  gone  out  to  one,  the  fair  daughter  of  the 
Lord  of  Nannau,  and  that  the  wedding  will  soon 
take  place."  Then  he  disappeared,  and  left  the 
lonely  Ellyw  still  more  solitary  by  reason  of  his 
words. 

As  she  sat  sorrow-stricken  a  mountain  bird  flew 
down  to  a  crag  near  by  and  uttered  a  frightened, 
plaintive  cry.  "  Poor  bird,"  she  said,  "  What 
anguish  stirs  your  heart  ?  "  She  rose,  and  followed 


108  WONDER  TALES. 

the  bird  as  it  flew  away.  Once  more  it  settled,  and 
gave  its  sorrowful  cry,  so  she  strove  to  approach  it. 
Again  the  bird  flew  ahead,  and  thus  she  followed  till 
the  mist  enwrapped  her,  and  amid  pathless  ways 
she  heard  naught  save  the  cry  of  the  bird.  Suddenly 
her  foot  sank  into  a  soft  yielding  spot,  and  lo !  she 
was  in  a  morass.  With  all  her  efforts,  exhausted 
as  she  already  was,  Ellyw  was  unable  to  get  clear. 
Alone  on  the  bleak  mountain,  gripped  by  the  deadly 
morass,  led  thither  by  the  arts  of  the  cruel  Llwyd, 
the  poor  girl  seemed  doomed  to  a  sad  and  early  death. 

She  began  earnestly  to  repeat  "  Our  Father," 
and  the  words  brought  her  comfort.  She  thought  of 
Meredydd  and  Hafodfraith.  The  sunny  days  of 
the  past  rose  to  her  mind,  and  she  dwelt  with 
gladness  on  the  comradeship  she  had  enjoyed  with 
Meredydd.  Why  had  he  so  easily  forgotten  her? 
She  thought  of  her  old  parents;  and,  as  this  memory 
came  to  her,  she  burst  into  tears  when  she  considered 
how  lonely  they  would  be  without  her. 

"Oh!  Meredydd,  Meredydd!"  she  wailed, 
' '  why  did  you  go  away  ?  ' ' 

As  she  spoke  it  seemed  to  her  that  a  distant 
noise  broke  the  dumb  silence  which  lay  around. 
Was  it  only  her  imagination?  Or  was  there 


MEREDYDD.  109 

actually  some  sound  ?  The  air  grew  rapidly  colder ; 
she  listened  in  vain;  but  she  had  now  sunk  to  her 
knees  in  the  morass.  She  prepared  herself  to  die. 
Yet,  once  again,  she  strove  to  cry  aloud.  "  Would 
that  Meredydd  knew  where  I  was!  Meredydd, 
Meredydd!  " 

Then,  indeed,  there  came  an  answering  cry  from 
someone  shouting  with  all  his  might,  "Ellyw! 
Ellyw!  "  What  could  it  mean?  With  all  her 
remaining  strength  she  replied,  "Here!  Here! 
Come  quickly !  "  Then  her  head  fell  on  her  breast. 
Ellyw  had  swooned. 

In  a  few  minutes  Meredydd  came  to  the  edge  of 
the  morass,  and  saw  the  sad  plight  of  the  girl.  As 
he  had  pursued  his  sad  way  homeward,  he 
determined  to  win  Ellyw  come  what  might.  He 
would  go  and  tell  her  of  his  victory  over  the  Wyvern, 
and  explain  how  it  was  won  for  her  alone.  She 
should  see  his  rewards,  the  threescore  of  cattle  and 
all  the  other  gifts;  and  with  these  thoughts  in  his 
mind  he  had  hurried  on.  In  his  haste  he  had  missed 
his  way,  and  soon  found  himself  wandering  on  the 
wild  wastes  of  the  mountains.  Yet  in  his  loneliness 
he  had  cried  "Ellyw!  Ellyw!  "  Then  through 
the  sombre  stillness  that  enwrapped  him,  as  if  in 


110  WONDER  TALES. 

answer  to  his  wild  cry,  he  thought  he  had  heard  the 
distant  voice  of  the  one  whom  he  loved  so  dearly. 
He  paused,  and  listened,  with  his  heart  beating 
wildly.  How  could  it  be  Ellyw  in  this  wild  and 
lonely  place?  Again  he  heard  the  faint  cry,  and 
recognised  the  agony  in  the  voice.  He  sprang 
forward,  searching  wildly  until  he  found  the 
unconscious  girl.  He  leaned  over,  and  with  the 
utmost  gentleness,  and  using  every  care,  he  dragged 
her  from  the  place  which  she  had  thought  would  be 
her  grave. 

Although  she  was  half  dead,  yet  she  was  life 
itself  to  Meredydd.  Even  as  the  sun  in  spring 
brings  back  life  to  the  chilled  and  sleeping  trees, 
so  the  very  sight  of  Ellyw  inspired  him  with  the 
resolution  to  bring  her  safely  home.  He  chafed  her 
cold  hands,  wrapped  her  warmly  in  his  shepherd's 
plaid,  and,  holding  her  like  a  child  in  his  strong 
young  arms,  he  passed  needfully  down  the  mountain- 
slope.  Ere  long  he  saw  the  eyelids  open,  and  the 
sad,  blue  eyes  looked  wonderingly  upward.  He 
bade  her  be  still,  and  soon  she  sank  into  a  soft 
restoring  sleep.  A  shepherd's  hut,  upon  which 
Meredydd  chanced,  gave  them  timely  shelter,  and 
when  the  day  broke  the  mist  had  rolled  away.  They 


MEREDYDD.  Ill 

could  see  the  distant  pathway  leading  like  a  long, 
grey  silken  thread  over  the  mountains  to  the  home 
at  Hafod-fraith. 

Before  they  reached  the  home  of  Ellyw  all 
had  been  explained,  and  they  knew  the  cunning  arts 
that  had  separated  them.  Then  Meredydd  recalled 
the  earnest  words  of  Aneurin,  the  priest,  and 
understood  the  jealousy  which  rankled  in  the  heart 
of  Llwyd.  He  was  anxious  for  the  future,  yet,  as 
it  chanced,  even  that  load  was  lifted  from  his  heart, 
for,  soon  after,  some  shepherds  found  Llwyd  lying 
dead  at  the  foot  of  a  precipice.  The  thick  mist 
which  had  brought  Meredydd  and  Ellyw  together 
had  separated  the  cruel  wizard  from  the  light  of 
day ;  and  he  passed  with  all  his  skill  and  hatred  into 
the  abodes  of  the  dead. 

Great  was  the  joy  at  Hafodfraith  when  the 
young  shepherd  led  Ellyw  home  in  safety.  Yet  a 
short  time  after,  this  happiness  was  increased  by  the 
marriage  of  Meredydd  and  Ellyw,  and  the  whole 
neighbourhood  came  together  to  celebrate  their 
union.  Meredydd  was  loved  for  his  courage  and 
gentleness,  his  faithfulness  and  his  simple  heart; 
Ellyw  was  dear  to  everyone  for  her  beauty,  and 
goodness,  and  patience.  They  went  to  live  in  the 


112  WONDER  TALES. 

white  farm  on  the  mountain-slope,  and  thither  the 
good  priests  of  the  Monastery  of  the  Standard 
brought  all  the  gifts  bestowed  upon  Meredydd  for  his 
victory  over  the  Wyvern. 

As  time  went  on  Meredydd's  happiness  was 
increased  and  his  wealth  multiplied.  His  children 
were  bold  and  resolute.  They  loved  and  deeply 
respected  their  parents,  for  they  often  heard  from 
those  who  knew  the  story  how  their  father  and 
mother  had  come  together.  So  great  a  deed  as  the 
victory  over  the  Wyvern  sank  deep  into  their  hearts ; 
and  thus  it  has  come  to  pass  that  the  descendants  of 
Meredydd  and  Ellyw  have  that  well-known  coat  of 
arms  which  depicts  a  Wyvern,  an  axe,  and  a 
shepherd's  crook  upon  an  azure  field. 


THE  STRAND  OF  THE  BITTER  CRY. 

I  HE  waves  of  war  have  often  swept  over 
the  rugged  land  of  Wales  and  dyed 
it's  green  valleys  with  the  red  blood 
of  death.  The  brave  children  of  the 
land  of  the  west  have  struggled  against  the  invader 
on  many  a  battlefield,  and  the  eternal  hills  have 
looked  down  on  many  a  brave  deed,  and  hearkened 
unto  many  a  sigh  as  the  spirit  has  fled  from  its 
earthly  companion.  Like  other  lands,  Wales  has 
seen  her  children  make  war  one  upon  another;  for 
greed  turns  the  heart  of  man  from  gentleness  and 
leads  into  strange  paths  those  who  yield  to  its  evil 

I 


114  WONDER  TALES. 

influence.  In  the  olden  times  of  which  we  hear  so 
much  and  yet  know  so  little,  the  sight  of  a  few  sheep 
might  impel  men  to  slaughter  their  fellows,  and  leave 
their  wives  in  widowhood,  and  their  children  sorrow- 
ing orphans. 

"  The  mountain  sheep  are  sweeter, 

But  the  valley  sheep  are  fatter; 
We  therefore  deemed  it  meeter 

To  carry  off  the  latter. 
We  made  an  expedition, 

We  met  an  host  and  quelled  it; 
We  forced  a  strong  position, 

And  killed  the  men  who  held  it. 

We  there,  in  strife  bewildering, 

Spilt  blood  enough  to  swim  in, 
We  orphaned  many  children 

And  widowed  many  women. 
The  eagles  and  the  ravens 

We  glutted  with  our  foemen, 
The  heroes  and  the  cravens, 

The  spearmen  and  the  bowmen. 

We  brought  away  from  battle, 

And  much  their  land  bemoaned  them, 
Two  thousand  head  of  cattle, 

And  the  head  of  him  who  owned  them. 
Ednyfed,  King  of  Dyfed, 

His  head  was  borne  before  us ; 
His  wine  and  beasts  supplied  our  feasts, 

And  his  overthrow  our  chorus." 

So  sings  a  poet  about  those  olden  days ;  and  thus 
it  was,  perhaps,  that,  at  the  end  of  the  year  after 


THE  STRAND  OF  THE   BITTER  CRY.     115 

the  slaughter  of  Elidir  Mwynfawr,  there  came  men   E!!dir 

muinvaur. 

to  Ystrad  Clwyd  in  the  north  of  Britain,  even  to   Elidir  greatly 

kind. 

Caernarvon,  to  avenge  the  blood  of  their  king.     Full   Estrad  Kmid 
of  anger  did  they  come,  with  fierce  hearts  beating  to   Vale  of  the 
slay,   and  pillage,   and  take  toll  for  the  deed  of 
blood.      In  their  swift  onslaught  they  fell  upon 
Caernarvon,   and  burnt  it  to  ashes.      Then  they 
trampled  with  heavy  foot  upon  the  ruins,  laughing 
loud  and  long  at  the  scene  of  desolation  which  their 
eyes  beheld. 

Yet  when  Rhun,  the  son  of  Maelgwyn  Gwynedd,    Rheen 
came  and  saw  their  handiwork  his  heart  sank  with   Gwineth, 

iron  white  of 

sorrow ;  yea,  it  sank  heavily,  as  a  stone  sinks  through 
the  water.  For  in  that  town  had  lived  one  whom  he 
loved,  and  whose  eyes  were  now  closed  for  ever  in  the 
fast  sleep  of  death.  But  Rhun  felt  more  than 
sorrow.  Grief,  forsooth,  was  the  first-comer  to  his 
heart;  then  after  grief  came  passion,  red-hot, 
pulsing  passion — pulsing  like  lead  as  it  runs  through 
the  furnace  to  the  mould  beneath.  In  this  anger  he 
turned,  and  called,  "  Who  will  follow  me  to  beat 
down  the  bitter  foe  who  hath  done  this  deed?  " 
Then  answered  many  a  warrior,  deep-voiced  and 
stern,  "  I  will  follow  thee!  "  And  when  Rhun 
started  on  the  march  a  mighty  host  went  with  him, 


116  WONDER  TALES. 

and  at  their  head  strode  the  son  of  Tndo  Hen,  the 
chief  of  men. 

They  went  with  subtilty,  and  swiftness,  and 
came  upon  the  foe  on  the  shores  of  the  river  Gweryd 
in  the  north.  Then,  with  such  suddenness  as  one 
sees  when  some  huge  rock  breaks  loose  from  its 
ancient  bed,  and  speeds,  thundering  and  crushing 
all  before  it  on  its  powerful  rush  to  the  valley,  so  one 
army  fell  upon  the  other.  Amid  the  clash  of  steel, 
the  clatter  of  blade  upon  buckler,  the  shivering  of 
pikes,  the  singing  of  javelins,  the  rattling  of 
hauberk,  and  the  ringing  of  helmets,  the  stern  shout 
arose,  "  Remember  Caernarvon."  Whereupon  the 
men  of  Caernarvon  swept  their  foes  before  them  as 
the  autumn  blast  picks  up,  whirls,  and  scatters  the 
fallen  leaves ;  so  that  when  the  silver  moon  stole  out 
from  the  bosom  of  the  hills,  the  men  who  had  gone  to 
Ystrad  Clwyd  lay  stiff  and  stark  under  her  pitying 
light. 

On  the  morrow,  the  men  of  Caernarvon  took  their 
pick  from  the  inhabitants  of  the  land.  Widows  and 
orphans  stood  helpless  before  them;  and  not  only 
they,  but  men  of  high  degree,  princes,  people  whose 
privilege  it  was  to  wear  the  golden  torque  of 
royalty.  From  all  these  the  conquerors  chose  whom 


THE  STRAND  OF  THE  BITTER  CRY.     117 

they  would,  and  led  them  back  as  slaves  and  servants 
to  the  realms  of  the  north.  Such  wealth  and 
plunder  they  had  never  possessed  before;  and  this 
was  the  fruit  of  their  victory. 

Now  among  these  slaves  of  lofty  lineage  there 
was  a  young  Saxon,  the  wearer  of  a  golden  torque. 
Highborn  he  was,  and  accustomed  to  rule  rather  than 
serve.  Yet  such  was  his  wisdom,  and  such  his 
natural  gentleness  and  courtesy,  that,  ere  long,  all 
with  whom  he  came  in  contact  sang  the  praises  of 
Edred,  the  Saxon  slave.  Rhun  himself  would  often 
go  and  converse  with  him,  and  ask  him  about  the 
story  of  his  youth,  about  his  kith  and  kin. 

As  time  went  on  Edred  was  appointed  to  be  a 
personal  attendant  of  Rhun,  and  daily  found  fresh 
favour.  But  Rhun  would  often  take  notice  that, 
when  Edred  was  alone,  his  eyes  looked  far  away  as 
though  they  saw  something  beyond  the  lofty 
mountain  peaks,  and,  from  time  to  time,  a  deep  sigh 
would  escape  his  lips  like  a  worn-out  captive  stealing 
from  a  sad  prison.  Then  Rhun,  as  he  grew  to  love 
him  better,  and  more  fully  understood  that  far- 
away look  and  heavy  sigh,  came  one  day, 
unexpectedly,  and,  laying  his  hand  on  the  young 
Saxon's  shoulder,  said : 


118  WONDER  TALES. 

' '  Tell  me,  Edred,  why  your  heart  is  heavy  ?  Are 
we  not  kind  to  you  ?  ' ' 

Then  Edred  made  answer,  and  said  : 

"  Kind  indeed  you  are,  and  more  than  kind. 
Somehow  you,  who  once  were  enemies,  are,  as  it  were, 
brothers  to  me.  Yet,  when  I  think  of  those  who 
reared  me  and  nurtured  me  in  my  childhood,  sadness 
steals  over  me  as  the  greyness  steals  over  the  land  at 
eventide.  This,  O  Rhun,  you  can  understand  full 
well,  for  the  Welsh  love  their  kinsfolk  dearly,  and 
are  true  to  them." 

Then  Rhun  stood  silent  with  his  head  bowed  in 
thought.  In  silence,  also,  he  turned  away  and  a 
tear  stole  from  his  brave,  blue  eyes.  He  strode  to 
his  home,  and  all  that  day  Edred  did  not  see  him 
again.  But  at  night  a  messenger  visited  the  young 
Saxon,  and  he  carried  with  him  rich  presents  of  gold 
and  silver,  and  jewelled  garments.  He  said  that 
Rhun  had  set  Edred  free,  but  he  would  fain  see  him 
again,  if,  perchance,  he  ever  cared  to  come  and 
sojourn  with  the  Welsh  at  Caernarvon.  Then  Edred 
was  both  glad  and  sorrowful.  In  haste  he  went  to 
Rhun  and  told  him  that  from  his  heart  he  thanked 
him.  His  desire  was,  indeed,  to  visit  his  own 
people,  yet  he  would  return  again  to  his  dear  friends 


THE  STRAND  OF  THE   BITTER  CRY.     119 

among  the  mountains  of  Wales  to  show  them  his 
gratitude  by  his  devotion.  So  he  made  all 
preparations  for  his  departure. 

Now,  in  the  days  of  Rhun,  there  lived  in  those 
parts  a  rich  and  exceedingly  lovely  lady  named 
Gwendud.  She  was  as  proud  as  she  was  beautiful, 
and  held  her  head  in  fine  disdain  whenever  she  passed 
through  the  throng  of  men  who  stood  to  watch  her 
beauty.  She  was  but  young,  and  had  many  brothers 
and  sisters,  yet  she  differed  from  them  in  many  ways. 
They,  too,  after  their  own  fashion  were  handsome. 
But  it  was  in  the  heart  that  the  difference  chiefly 
lay.  For  while  Gwendud' s  kindred  had  resolved  to 
go  through  the  land  of  Wales,  preaching  the  glories 
and  bliss  of  those  who  followed  the  Christ,  and 
striving  to  win  their  countrymen  from  a  pagan 
condition,  she  had  no  such  desire.  So  that  the 
brothers  and  sisters  had  totally  different  habits  from 
Gwendud.  Her  great  wish  was  to  remain  in  that 
neighbourhood  and  wed  some  great  and  noble  prince. 
"  Yes,"  quoth  she,  with  proud  look  and  upturned 
brow,  "  my  husband  shall  wear  the  golden  torque. 
I  will  not  mate  with  any  one  of  less  degree." 

As  she  spake  thus  her  eyes  would  sparkle  as  the 
blue  gems  sparkle  at  the  edge  of  the  coronet  of  some 


120  WONDER  TALES. 

king,  and  her  bosom,  white  as  the  soft  down  of  the 
swan,  rose  and  fell  with  the  resolve  of  her  heart. 
Truly  she  was  lovely — a  vision  of  the  pure  spring 
blossoms  flushed  with  the  early  crimson  of  the  year, 
and  crowned  with  the  richest  gold;  and  many  there 
were  who  loved  her,  yet  feared  to  tell  her  of  their 
love.  Men  even  said  that  much  as  they  admired  her 
beauty,  they  greatly  feared  to  win  her — as  one  may 
watch  the  beauty  and  the  strength  of  some  splendid 
steed  yet  dread  to  ride  it. 

At  that  time  came  Hywel,  the  son  of  a  wealthy 
neighbour,  and  told  Gwendud  of  his  love  for  her. 
With  dark  and  resolute  eyes  he  looked  her  through 
and  through,  and  dared  proclaim  his  love  and  his 
desire  to  win  her.  As  he  looked  in  her  eyes  she  read 
his  resolve,  and  felt  that  she  would  willingly  yield 
to  him ;  but  her  heart  was  set  on  a  golden  torque,  and 
the  nobility  that  came  therewith.  For  though  Hywel 
was  rich,  and  would  one  day  be  still  more  wealthy, 
he  was  not  the  possessor  of  the  wreath  of  twisted 
gold.  So  she  turned  coldly  away,  stilling  her  heart 
and  its  emotions,  as  the  rigid  ice  checks  the  throbbing 
surface  of  the  lake  when  the  moon  is  full. 

As  she  stood  silent  Hywel  said  : 

"  Why  do  you  not  answer  me,  0  Gwendud?  " 


THE  STRAND  OF  THE   BITTER  CRY.     121 

Then,  with  a  low,  cruel  laugh,  she  replied : 
' '  Does  Hy wel  wear  the  torque  ?  ' ' 
"  Why  no,"  he  answered;  "  I  am  not  royal !  " 
She  made  no  reply.    But  when  Hywel  urged  her 
to  tell  him  her  meaning,  in  measured  distant  words, 
she  spoke  her  resolution.     So  cold  was  her  speech 
that  it  fell  like  a  chill  upon  the  youth,  and  he  went 
silently,  despondently,  to  his  home. 

Yet,  as  Hywel  thought  long  and  earnestly  about 
Gwendud,  the  resolve  came  to  him  to  win  a  golden 
torque  by  fair  means  or  by  foul,  for  he  knew  he  could 
not  live  without  her.  But  he  was  often  in  despair, 
for  the  wearing  of  a  golden  wreath  is  so  high  an 
honour  that  few  attain  unto  it.  However,  since  the 
possession  of  a  torque  was  the  sole  condition,  and  this 
was  not  altogether  impossible,  Hywel  determined  not 
to  rest  until  he  gained  one.  So  he  went  towards 
Caer  Rhun,  near  Bangor,  to  see  what  the  future 
might  bring  him. 

It  befell  that  Hywel  came  to  Caer  Rhun  at  the   carrheen, 
time    that    Edred    the    Saxon,    having    obtained         e  of 
permission  of  Rhun,  was  about  to  set  forth  on  his 
journey  to  the  lowlands  beyond  the  mountains.    Men 
talked  of  his  forthcoming  departure,  of  his  favour 
with  Rhun,  and  of  his  golden  torque.     As  Hywel 


122  WONDER  TALES. 

heard  these  words  his  eyes  grew  small  and  sharp  as 
the  hard  and  glittering  diamond,  and  he  drew  near 
to  hear  yet  more. 

Quoth  one,  "  Edred  goes  by  way  of  Conwy,  and 
far  beyond,  so  he  needs  a  guide;  yet  who  can  go  in 
the  harvest  of  the  year  ?  ' ' 

"  True,"  said  another;  "  yet,  if  no  guide  be 
found,  Rhun  so  loves  him  that  he  himself  will  lead 
him  on  his  way." 

Hearing  these  words  Hywel  went  swiftly  to 
Edred,  and,  with  a  face  as  open  as  the  summer  sky, 
offered  to  guide  the  Saxon. 

"  I  have  but  just  arrived  at  Caer,"  said  Hywel,  car,  a  camp. 
' '  but  already  I  have  heard  men  speak  of  you  and  tell 
of  your  departure,  and,  as  I  myself  must  go  towards 
Conwy,  if  you  so  desire,  I  will  gladly  show  you  the 
safest  and  quickest  way.  Since  my  childhood  I  have 
lived  here,  and  none  knows  the  paths  better  than  I." 

The  Saxon  youth  gladly  accepted  the  offer  of  the 
guide,  never  thinking  of  the  treachery  that  lurked  in 
Hywel' s  heart  like  some  foul  monster  which,  eager 
for  food,  sits  in  a  den  whose  front  is  adorned  with 
the  honeysuckle  and  tender  ivy.  For  Hywel's 
intention  was  to  slay  Edred,  and  gain  possession  of 
the  golden  torque. 


THE  STRAND  OF  THE   BITTER  CRY.     123 

So  they  two  set  out  and  came  right  merrily  on 
their  journey  till  the  road  forked,  so  that  one  path 
ran  smooth  and  level  along  the  low-lying  ground, 
while  another  climbed  the  secret  places  of  the 
mountains.  Here  Hywel  urged  that  they  should 
take  the  upper  path,  for  he  told  how  the  lower  was 
infested  with  ravening  wolves,  and  by  a  race  of  men 
more  fierce  even  than  those  cruel  enemies. 

"  Up  on  the  mountain  paths,"  he  said,  "  the 
way  is  narrow,  and  often  difficult,  but  it  is  free  from 
such  bitter  foes,  while  the  path  by  the  plain  lies 
through  thick  woods  where  the  aggressor  can  lurk 
unseen." 

Thus  he  lured  Edred  away  from  the  beaten 
track,  and  the  haunts  of  man,  to  the  wild  and 
unfrequented  places  of  the  mountains,  in  order  that 
he  might  be  more  free  to  do  the  cruel  deed  to 
which  his  passion  impelled  him.  And  Edred,  all 
unsuspecting,  went  with  his  guide,  listening  to  his 
merry  conversation. 

When  they  came  to  the  river,  which  has  ever  since 
that  time  been  called  Afon-lladd-Sais,  Hywel  did  Avon-iiath- 

sayes,  River- 

the  evil  that  lay  in  his  heart.  The  place  was  by  a 
narrow,  rushing  stream,  and  all  around  were  great 
boulders  sheltering  them  from  any  passer-by  who 


124  WONDER  TALES. 

might  chance  that  way.  Away  below  their  feet  the 
great  slope  swept  grandly  to  the  wooded  plains,  and 
above  them  the  mountains  towered  superbly  to  the 
sky.  The  sun  had  set  and  all  was  peace  and 
quietness  while  they  stood  to  watch  the  glory  of  the 
eventide  as  it  lingered  tenderly  upon  the  woods  and 
fields  of  the  plain.  Then,  as  they  talked,  Hywel 
drew  back  one  pace,  and,  in  a  flash,  drove  his  knife 
into  Edred's  back  so  that  he  fell  heavily,  with  one 
bitter  sob,  upon  the  stones  on  the  streamlet's  bank, 
and  died. 

Hywel  stood,  looking  at  the  man  who  a  moment 
before  had  talked  and  laughed  with  him,  and  now 
lay  so  disfigured  on  the  ground.  He  bent  down  in 
haste,  and,  scarce  knowing  what  he  did,  he  plucked 
the  golden  torque  from  Edred's  neck,  placed  it  round 
his  own,  then  fled  in  terror  from  the  spot;  yea,  fled 
through  the  fall  of  the  evening,  fled  through  the 
blackness  of  the  night,  nor  stayed  his  fleeting  steps 
until  he  came  with  the  dawn  to  the  abode  of 
Gwendud.  He  entered,  and  said  : 

' '  Behold  the  golden  torque !  Give  me  your 
hand!  " 

But  Gwendud,  looking  upon  him,  saw  that  all 
was  not  well,  and  drew  back. 


THE  STRAND  OF  THE   BITTER   CRY.     125 

"  Nay,  Hywel,"  she  said;  "  not  yet  will  I  give 
my  hand;  for  I  must  know  how  you  came  by  the 
golden  circle  that  gives  you  princely  rank.  Full 
glad  am  I  to  see  the  torque;  but  I  must  know  more 
before  we  can  speak  of  marriage. ' '  So  she  sat  down 
to  hearken  to  what  he  would  say. 

Then  Hywel  let  loose  the  words  of  his  heart  till 
they  flowed  in  tumultuous  haste,  telling  of  passionate 
love,  and  resolve  which  knew  no  restraint.  His 
language  poured  as  some  mountain  stream,  swollen 
by  the  winter  rains,  and  held  back  painfully  by 
hindering  rocks,  bursts  suddenly  into  a  free,  clear 
channel,  and  dashes  forward  to  the  fruitful  plain 
beneath. 

When  he  had  finished  Gwendud  said  : 

"  And  did  you  bury  the  body  ?  "  This  she  said 
coldly  but  with  deep  meaning. 

"No!  "  said  Hywel.  "  I  dared  not  stop  for 
that." 

"  Then  you  must  go  forthwith;  nay,  say  not  one 
word.  Go  back  with  all  the  speed  you  may,  and 
bury  Edred  deep  out  of  sight.  For  mark  me,  Hywel, 
should  Rhun  get  to  hear  of  this  he  will  avenge 
Edred' s  blood  as  surely  as  the  dawn  comes  after  the 
darkness  of  night.  Then  shall  all  your  labours  be 


126  WONDER  TALES. 

in  vain,  and  marriage  for  me  would  mean  widow- 
hood, or  worse.  Go !  Do  not  see  me  till  the  deed  is 
accomplished." 

So  Hywel  went  with  haste,  and,  coming  again 
to  the  place  of  murder,  looked  all  unwillingly  upon 
Edred's  corpse.  Then  he  commenced  to  dig  a  deep 
grave  in  the  place  that  is  called  to  this  day  Braich  Brake  e  Beth, 
y  Bedd.*  He  toiled  long  and  arduously,  and  as  his  grr™e°  * 
task  neared  completion,  he  paused  to  rest  and  look 
awhile  over  the  plain  and  its  broad  fair  woods.  As 
he  stood  leaning  on  his  mattock,  thinking  how 
strangely  quiet  was  everything  in  the  world  below, 
from  somewhere  overhead  came  a  trembling,  rushing 
sound  which  grew  ever  louder,  till,  as  though  it 
thundered,  rang  out  the  words : 

' '  WOE  UPON  WOE  !  VENGEANCE  WILL  COME  !  ' ' 
Then  as  though  the  very  mountains  were 
awake  and  answering  to  the  awful  sound,  the 
words,  "Vengeance  will  come!'1  eddied  and 
bubbled  around  him,  sweeping  against  his  ears 
and  refusing  to  be  shut  out.  Aye,  the  very  rocks 
bellowed  out  against  him,  "  Vengeance  will  come! 
Vengeance  will  come!  "  Three  times  did  this 
happen,  and  each  time  the  appalling  cry  grew 
louder  and  more  intense,  till  it  seemed  as  though  the 


THE  STRAND  OF  THE   BITTER  CRY.     127 

whole  earth  must  hear  the  accusing  sounds,  and 
demand  the  reason  for  them.  At  the  third  cry 
Hywel  flung  down  his  mattock,  and,  leaping  horror- 
stricken  from  the  spot,  went  trembling  like  an  aspen- 
leaf  to  Gwendud. 

As  he  came  before  her  she  said  coldly  : 

"Is  the  deed  done?  " 

"No!  "  quoth  Hywel. 

"  Why  are  you  in  my  presence,  then,  against  my 
wish?  "  asked  she. 

So  Hywel  explained,  and  told  her  of  the  awful 
voice  that  pealed  out  over  the  mountain.  Where- 
upon, woman-like,  she  asked  questions,  putting 
before  him  things  of  which  he  had  not  thought. 

"  Did  you  ask  when  vengeance  would  come?  " 

"  Nay,  said  he;  "  for  I  fled  heart-stricken  from 
the  grave.  I  would  sooner  cast  the  torque  into  the 
heart  of  the  deepest  mountain  lake  than  reply  to  that 
voice  of  Fear.  Yea,  Gwendud,  I  would  even  put 
aside  all  thoughts  of  marriage  rather  than  answer 
the  unknown  accuser!  "  So  he  stood  pale  and 
trembling,  before  her,  and  she  looked  upon  him  with 
eyes  as  piercing  as  the  lightning-flash.  But  he  went 
on,  ' '  Rather  than  suffer  such  terrible  torture  I  will 
go  hence  to  some  place  of  exile  and  expiate  my  sin  in 


128  WONDER  TALES. 

long  years  of  bitter  repentance  till  time,  if  it  be 
possible,  shall  show  full  atonement  for  the  deed  I 
have  committed." 

At  this  Gwendud,  seeing  his  resolve  and  knowing 
she  stood  fair  to  lose  him  and  his  love,  yet 
determined  to  bend  him  to  her  will,  spoke  softly  ana 
with  gently  impelling  words. 

"  No,  Hywel,"  she  said,  with  love-filled  yearning 
eyes,  eyes  which  swam  like  stars  before  him,  "  not 
so.  Fear  nothing  for  my  sake.  But,  for  our  future 
happiness,  go  and  bury  him,  and  should  the  cry 
come  again,  ask,  '  When  will  vengeance  come?  ' 
Do  this,  because  I  love  you,  and  would  be  yours." 

Then  smitten  with  her  gentleness  and  desiring 
above  all  to  please  her,  Hywel,  casting  fear  aside, 
went  again  to  the  spot  where  the  body  lay. 

He  started,  once  more,  his  awful  task.  When  the 
grave  was  finished  he  placed  therein  the  stiff  form  of 
Edred,  and  hurriedly  set  to  work  to  shovel  in  the 
earth,  to  hide  the  body  from  his  sight.  So  he 
continued  till  the  last  shovelful  was  cast  and  the 
grave  was  level  with  the  ground.  Then,  and  not 
till  then,  that  cry  rang  out  like  the  trump  of  doom, 
"  VENGEANCE  WILL  COME  !  "  and  the  echoes  sounded, 
' '  Vengeance  will  come  !  Vengeance  will  come !  ' ' 


THE   STRAND  OF  THE   BITTER   CRY.     129 

Hywel  stood,  with  his  hands  before  his  face,  and, 
in  a  low  quailing  voice  asked : 

"  When?  " 

And  the  unseen  proclaimer  of  doom  answered : 

"  In  the  time  of  the  children,  the  grand- 
children, and  the  great-grandchildren!  " 

A  deadly  silence  followed  these  words,  and 
Hywel  stole  in  fear  and  trembling  from  the  side  of 
the  Saxon's  grave. 

When  he  stood  again  before  Gwendud  she  saw 
that  he  had  done  the  deed;  but  she  waited  for  his 
news  with  all  the  patience  peculiar  to  women.  At 
last  he  spoke,  and  said  : 

"  Gwendud,  the  voice  answered  my  question!  " 

"  What  did  it  tell  you?  "  she  asked. 
'  That  vengeance  would  come  in  the  time  of  the 
children,  the  grandchildren,  and  the  great-grand- 
children!  " 

Gwendud  glanced  downwards,  and,  for  a  time 
no  words  passed  between  them.  Then  she  raised  her 
face,  and  said  quietly,  yet  with  love  and  admiration 
in  her  gaze  : 

"  Hywel,  we  both  shall  be  dust  long  before  that 
time  arrives;  we  need  not  fear  the  day;  so  I  give  you 
my  hand  and  all  that  is  mine." 

j 


130  WONDER  TALES. 

Her  desire  was  ardently  towards  marriage ;  nay, 
she  insisted  on  its  speedy  celebration;  because  the 
judgment  for  the  evil  deed  was  not  to  fall  until  the 
third  generation. 

Never  had  there  been  so  splendid  a  wedding  in 
those  parts,  nor  such  a  handsome  bride.  The  sun 
shone  brightly  in  the  clear  sky;  the  guests  were 
resplendent  in  gay  attire  of  red  and  purple  adorned 
with  sparkling  jewels.  The  bride  rode  on  a  white 
horse  caparisoned  with  splendid  harness,  and  joy 
flashed  from  every  eye.  Since  both  Hywel  and 
Gwendud  were  rich  beyond  measure,  wealth  poured 
in  upon  them;  for  that  is  the  way  of  this  strange 
world.  When  the  father  of  Hywel  passed  away, 
they  went  to  live  at  the  castle,  which  they  magnified 
and  adorned  with  great  splendour  and  luxury, 
for,  by  their  abode  there,  it  became  a  palace.  This 
prince  and  princess  lived  such  a  life  as  few  enjoy. 
So  abundant  was  the  mirth  that  never  a  day  passed 
without  music  and  dancing,  and  the  palace  rang 
with  boisterous  shouts  and  giddy  pleasure,  for 
Gwendud  was  a  right  royal  hostess  and  loved  gaiety. 

So  the  years  flashed  by  as  some  gorgeous 
cavalcade  passes  with  clatter  and  laughter  through 
the  narrow  streets  of  a  town.  Children  were  born 


THE   STRAND  OF  THE  BITTER  CRY.     131 

to  the  joy-loving  couple,  and,  like  their  parents, 
turned  with  pleasure  towards  the  pursuit  of  enjoy- 
ment. Once  in  a  while  the  brothers  and  sisters  of 
Gwendud  would  come  to  see  their  sister;  but  she 
always  sighed  with  relief  when  they  departed. 

In  course  of  time  the  children  grew  up  and 
married,  and,  to  all  appearances,  were  wedded  most 
happily.  Seven  sons  there  were,  and  five  daughters, 
fair  as  the  merry  flowers  of  the  summer  when  the  sun 
shines  at  its  greatest  height.  As  Hywel  and 
Gwendud  looked  upon  their  offspring  they  thought 
of  the  voice,  and  their  hearts  were  blithe  as  they 
remembered  that  vengeance  should  not  fall  in  their 
lifetime,  nor  in  that  of  their  children.  Then  one 
would  say  to  the  other,  "  Fortunate  are  we,  and 
blessed  beyond  ordinary  measure  in  having  such 
children,  and  in  knowing  that  they  will  not  inherit 
punishment  for  our  misdeed." 

Truth  to  tell,  as  the  years  waxed  and  waned  and 
dropped  into  the  river  of  forgetfulness,  so  the 
memory  of  the  deed  of  horror  grew  fainter,  till  one 
would  suppose  it  had  in  due  course  almost  faded 
from  the  parents'  minds.  Then  a  grandson  was 
born  to  Hywel  and  Gwendud;  the  son  of  their 
eldest  son ;  and  lo !  another  and  yet  another,  till  an 


132  WONDER  TALES. 

abundant  generation  took  the  place  of  that  which 
had  grown  up  so  merrily.  And  the  old  castle  and 
its  recent  additional  buildings  still  echoed  with 
laughter  and  the  beating  feet  of  the  merry  dancers. 
"Aye,"  quoth  Hywel,  "  better  laugh  than  be  sad." 
After  this  fashion  the  years  passed  swiftly  by. 

In  the  ripeness  of  old  age  Hywel  and  Gwendud, 
hale  and  hearty  as  the  sturdy  oaks  of  the  forest, 
and  beautified  with  the  silvery  splendour  of  the 
years,  stood  on  a  day  and  watched  their  descendants. 
Then  came  one,  and  said,  "  Sire,  your  friends  give 
you  joy.  Your  granddaughter  Netha  has  given 
birth  to  a  son !  ' '  Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  the 
years  had  fled,  and  they  two  were  great-grand- 
parents. They  looked  at  each  other;  then  Hywel 
said : 

"  In  the  days  of  the  great-grandchildren.  There- 
fore not  yet,  Gwendud,  and  we  shall  be  gone  long 
before  then." 

But  so  sturdy  a  line  was  theirs  that  it  knew  no 
loss  by  death,  and  still  others  were  born  to  swell  the 
numbers.  Men  marvelled  at  the  family ;  and  people 
came  from  far  and  foreign  places  to  see  the  number 
of  the  generations. 

However,  it  is  not  given  to  man  to  live  for  ever. 


THE  STRAND  OF  THE  BITTER  CRY.     133 

A  time  must  come  for  each  of  us  when  the  evening 
shall  fall,  night  steal  over  the  loftiest  mountain- 
peak,  and  the  flashing  stars  tell  silently  of  heaven. 
Both  Hywel  and  Gwendud  began  to  feel  the  chill 
of  eventide ;  and  on  a  day  Gwendud,  still  harbouring 
the  love  of  mirth  and  feasting,  said  to  Hywel : 

' '  Would  it  not  be  better  to  have  a  banquet  for  us 
and  our  descendants,  so  that,  once  again,  before  we 
pass  hence,  we  may  gather  all  our  sons  and 
daughters,  their  children,  and  children's  children 
upon  our  hearth?  Let  us  forget  our  age  in  the 
merry  laugh  of  our  descendants! 

Hywel  saw  that  this  was  good,  and  word  went 
forth  that  on  the  first  day  of  summer  such  a  feast 
would  be  given  and  all  were  invited  to  appear. 

Such  preparations  were  made!  Hunters  were 
busy  tracking  the  hart  royal  in  the  forest,  fishermen 
cast  their  nets,  and  not  in  vain,  for  a  silvery  harvest ; 
bakers  toiled  night  and  day,  making  the  good,  crisp 
bread  and  spicy  cakes.  From  the  deepest  vaults 
of  the  palace,  cellarers  fetched  sparkling  wines 
redolent  of  joy  and  youth.  And  anon,  all  was 
nearly  ready  for  the  festive  day. 

Meanwhile,  Hywel  sent  to  Bangor  for  skilful 
players  of  instruments  who  should  scatter  harmony 


134  WONDER  TALES. 

for  the  dancers,  and  kindle  merry  laughter  in  the 
hearts  of  those  who  listened.  Aye,  and  a  Bard  was 
fetched,  a  man  hoary  with  age,  and  famed  far  and 
wide  for  his  words  and  the  flow  of  wit  and  wisdom. 
Everything  was  done  in  the  most  costly  fashion  as  a 
prelude  to  the  departure  of  the  aged  couple,  which 
must  of  necessity  happen  soon  after  in  peace  and 
perfect  quietness. 

Ah  !  think  you  so  ?  Then  hearken  once  again  to 
the  voice  of  prophecy.  Doth  not  winter  follow 
summer  ?  Do  not  sparks  fly  upwards  ?  Is  not  death 
the  sure  follower  of  life,  and  will  not  the  grave  close 
upon  the  merry  life,  which  long  since  lay  crowing  in 
the  cradle  ? 

When  all  was  ready  for  the  feast,  the  Bard,  bent 
with  years,  and  pure  as  winter  with  his  snowy  locks 
and  long  white  beard,  turned  and  spoke  to  a  merry 
dark-eyed  maid : 

"  Dost  thou  know  that  to-day  God  will  bring 
vengeance  on  this  place?  " 

"Vengeance,  father?"  quoth  she,  "and 
why?  " 

' '  Vengeance,  my  child, ' '  he  made  answer ;  ' '  and 
that  for  some  hoar,  some  long-forgotten  deed  done 
by  the  old  people  ere  thou  wast  born,  though 


THE  STRAND  OF  THE  BITTER  CRY.     135 

perchance  my  own  feet  had  trodden  some  distance 
upon  this  weary  pilgrimage. ' ' 

Then  he  paused,  and  the  maid  looked 
wonderingly  upon  the  working  of  the  spirit  which 
moved  him  so  strangely.  At  last  he  laid  an  old  and 
trembling  hand  upon  her  shoulders  and  spoke  again  : 

"  When  thou  goest  to  the  cellar  in  search  of 
mead  or  wine,  look  carefully  all  around,  and  if  thou 
seest  water  coming  in,  and  in  that  water  small  white 
fish,  come  speedily  and  tell  me." 

Then  he  took  up  his  old  harp  and  played  low, 
soul-stirring  music  so  that  all  marvelled  to  hear  it; 
and  a  dark  shadow  stole  over  the  faces  of  Hy wel  and 
Gwendud. 

Sometime  in  the  midst  of  the  feast,  when 
laughter  and  wine  were  flowing  freely,  the  maid 
came  swiftly  to  the  side  of  the  Bard,  and,  with  eyes 
wide  open  and  greatly  terrified,  she  said  : 

' '  Father !  I  went  erewhile  to  the  cellars,  and 
lo !  they  are  half  full  of  water,  and  in  that  water 
strange  white  fish  move  heavily  to  and  fro !  ' ' 

"  Well,  then,"  he  answered,  "  come  now  with 
me,  maiden;  come  at  once;  let  us  flee  away  for  our 
lives,  and,  indeed,  it  is  high  time !  ' :  So  they  two 
went  swiftly  from  the  hall. 


136  WONDER  TALES. 

They  passed  rapidly  away  from  the  palace, 
hearing  as  they  sped  the  joyous  sounds  of  merry- 
making and  dancing;  but,  before  they  left  the 
grounds  that  surrounded  the  ancient  walls  they 
paused  in  horror  as  the  sound  of  the  mighty  roar 
of  lofty  ocean  waves  leaping  against  the  palace  walls 
broke  upon  their  ears.  Then  arose  a  cry,  a  terrible, 
heartrending,  piercing  sound,  which  sent  a  cold 
shiver  over  their  bodies,  causing  the  hair  of  their 
heads  to  stand  upright.  But  they  had  no  time  to 
wait,  for  already  water  was  sobbing  in  the  grass  at 
their  feet,  and  soon  they  were  running  ankle-deep 
in  a  frothy  foam  that  hissed  around  them  like  the 
hiss  of  a  thousand  vipers.  Yet  as  they  went  up  the 
hill-side,  they  left  the  water;  and,  climbing  higher 
and  higher,  stood  at  last  upon  the  mountain  summit. 
It  was  night  and  very  dark.  Thus  in  sorrow  and 
bitter  anguish  they  sat  down,  waiting  for  the  dawn. 

Who  can  so  describe  the  disclosure  of  that  dawn 
that  he  who  hears  may  see  what  lay  before  their  eyes  ? 
A  mighty  waste  of  misty  waters !  The  boundless  sea 
lay  moaning  over  the  land.  The  old  Bard  and  the 
young  serving-maid  alone  had  escaped  from  the 
Palace  of  Pleasure,  and  the  doom  of  the  years. 
"  Vengeance  will  come;  vengeance  will  come!  " 


THE  STRAND  OF  THE  BITTER  CRY 

"Father!     I  went  erewhile  to  the  cellars,  and  lo  !  they  are  half 
full  of  water,  and  in  that  water  strange  fish  move  heavily  to  and  fro." 


THE  STRAND  OF  THE   BITTER  CRY.     137 

Men  say  (and  who  can  refuse  to  believe  them?) 
that,  when  the  wind  blows  strongly  from  the  east 
and  the  tide  sinks  low,  the  walls  of  Hywel's  palace 
are  visible  to  this  day.  And  this  is  the  legend  of 
the  Strand  of  the  Bitter  Cry. 


IDWAL  OF  NANT   CLWYD. 


Nant  Kluid, 
brook  of  the 


N  the  valley  of  Nant  Clwyd  one  used  to  gat€ 
see  in  the  by-gone  days  an  old  deserted 
farmhouse.  By  the  side  of  its  pros- 
perous neighbours  it  looked  shabby 
and  forlorn.  While  plenty  and  shining  contentment 
seemed  to  smile  about  the  doors  and  windows  of  the 
other  farms,  this  poor  old  waif,  left  bare  and 
desolate  in  the  midst  of  the  fertile  valley,  seemed  to 
beg  for  a  touch  of  pity  and  the  glance  of  compassion. 
Yet  the  valley  was  fertile,  and  the  little  stream  as  it 
purled  over  its  cosy  bed  seemed  to  speak  of  the 
wealth  of  the  mountains.  Why  was  this  picture  of 
desolation  painted  so  clearly  on  the  canvas  of  nature  ? 


IDWAL   OF   NANT   CLWYD.  139 

Ah !  that  is  a  story  that  carries  one  a  long  way  back, 
amid  strange  scenes  in  another  and  stranger 
generation.  But  come,  and  we  will  hear  this  strange 
tale  of  Idwal  of  Nant  Clwyd. 

The  parents  of  Idwal  were  worthy  and 
respectable  farming  folk,  and  they  lived  in  the  farm 
at  Nant  Clwyd.  Several  children  had  been  born  to 
them,  but  one  after  the  other  passed  away  in  child- 
hood. Then,  last  of  all,  came  Idwal;  and  as  the  rose 
that  blooms  late  in  the  spring  escapes  the  cold  biting 
winds  which  shatter  tender  petals,  so  Idwal  made 
his  appearance  after  the  sorrows  of  the  family  had 
fled.  One  need  not  say  he  was  the  light  of  his 
parents'  eyes.  Through  him  they  hoped  that  their 
line  would  be  continued.  No  man  dies  with  an  easy 
mind  unless  he  has  someone  who,  when  he  is  dead, 
can  arrange  for  his  funeral,  or  who  will  water  his 
grave  with  tears,  and  gladden  it  with  flowers.  From 
whom  can  one  expect  such  kind  offices  if  not  from 
one's  children?  Man  loves  to  believe  that  there 
will  be  a  little  sorrow  after  he  has  departed  from 
this  world  of  time,  and  what  human  being  is  so  free 
from  this  harmless  desire  that  he  can  afford  to  laugh 
or  stare  at  another  ? 

One  day  Idwal  went  out  hunting  with  a  faithful 


140  WONDER  TALES. 

friend.  This  was  Caradog,  the  son  of  the  people 
who  lived  at  the  farm  next  to  Nant  Clwyd.  Idwal 
and  Caradog  had  played  together  as  children,  sat 
side  by  side  at  school,  and,  growing  older,  had 
courted,  and  then  married  at  the  same  time.  For, 
at  the  same  hour,  in  the  same  church,  and  before  the 
same  priest,  they  had  married  two  sisters.  One  can 
imagine  how  happy  these  four  had  been  in  the  green 
shelter  of  the  dear  valleys  in  the  heart  of  Wales. 

Idwal  and  Caradog  started  out,  and,  after  a 
time  at  their  sport,  they  came  to  a  dense  thicket 
whose  branches  so  intertwined  that  they  formed  a 
green  roof  overhead.  Here  the  two  friends  separated 
in  order  that  each  might  track  the  game  more 
stealthily.  Caradog,  finding  after  a  while  that  the 
day  was  growing  old,  and  knowing  full  well  that  it 
would  take  some  time  to  reach  their  homes,  began 
to  make  some  effort  to  find  Idwal.  He  called  and 
even  shouted;  but  in  vain.  In  spite  of  every  effort 
Idwal  remained  lost,  till  at  last  Caradog  departed 
to  tell  the  news  at  home.  No  one  slept  a  wink  at 
Nant  Clwyd  that  night  by  reason  of  anxiety,  and 
hopes,  and  fears.  Yes,  indeed,  fears  for  the  worst, 
and  hopes  for  the  best  filled  every  heart. 

On  the  morrow  they  all  went  to  search  for  Idwal. 


IDWAL   OF   NANT    CLWYD.  141 

The  ploughs  stood  idle  on  the  soil,  and  the  farm- 
yards were  strangely  quiet.  In  the  wood,  however, 
there  was  tumult.  Men  went  rapidly  searching 
every  nook  and  corner  where  Idwal  had  been  lost. 
But  their  efforts  were  in  vain.  In  spite  of  the 
warmth  of  friendship  between  the  two  hunters,  the 
tongue  of  slander  began  to  move  busily  and  shape 
treachery  against  Caradog.  But  his  manner  was  so 
honest  and  his  face  so  open,  his  answers  to  questions 
so  kindly,  that  every  doubt  was  killed,  causing 
slander  to  drink  its  own  blood. 

Idwal  was  sought  for  with  the  utmost  care.  The 
whole  wood  was  searched,  and  scarcely  a  twig  was 
left  untouched.  So  keen  and  intent  was  the  search 
that  one  might  have  thought  that  the  people  in  that 
wood  had  gone  suddenly  mad  and  wandered  in  their 
madness.  Their  loud  cries  lent  ears  to  the  wind; 
but  that  brought  no  answer  on  its  wings ;  not  even  the 
smallest  cry  from  Idwal.  The  testimony  of  the 
trembling  leaves  was  the  only  response  that  they 
received  to  their  soul-stirring  questions. 

After  a  long,  long  quest,  some  of  them  saw  a 
circle  of  the  Tylwyth  Teg  near  the  spot  where  Idwal 
had  disappeared.  Then,  truly,  all  doubt  was 
removed;  for  they  decided  at  once  that  Idwal  had 


142  WONDER  TALES. 

been  unfortunate  enough  to  come  under  the  spell  of 
the  small  strange  people,  and  had  been  lured  away 
by  their  strange,  sweet  music  to  the  land  of  Hud-a- 
Lledrith. 

Gradually  all  hope  of  seeing  Idwal  of  Nant 
Clwyd  faded  away.  His  friends  said,  "  We  shall 
see  him  no  more  in  the  land  of  the  living, ' '  and  their 
tears  were  very  bitter  as  they  mourned  for  his 
absence.  But  before  he  was  completely  forgotten,  a 
circumstance  occurred  which  brought  again  his 
memory  in  a  striking  manner.  At  the  end  of  four 
months  a  child  was  born,  who  in  very  truth  was  just 
the  living  image  of  his  father.  This  child  grew  to 
manhood,  and  filled  the  place  of  his  father  in  the 
hearts  of  the  old  grandparents.  He  also,  in  due 
course,  was  married,  and  his  bride  was  a  young  and 
lovely  girl  from  the  neighbourhood.  Alas !  courtesy 
and  generosity  were  not  among  the  virtues  of  her 
kinsfolk. 

Now  these  two  virtues  have  never  been  seen  apart 
since  the  world  began.  Love-twins  are  they,  yet 
generosity  is  the  elder  of  the  twain.  Each  is  the 
life-breath  of  the  other,  the  other's  soul.  And  say 
now,  those  who  know,  whoever  heard  of  a  courteous 
miser  ?  Yes,  Idwal's  son  had  married  into  a  family 


IDWAL   OF   NANT    CLWYD.  143 

of  misers  who  had  banished  all  gentleness,  all 
courtesy,  all  compassion  from  their  hearts.  And, 
woe  upon  woe,  yea,  till  the  heart  trembles  at  the  pity 
of  it,  greed  and  the  denial  of  these  virtues  were  the 
first  things  they  taught  their  offsprings. 

The  daughter-in-law  was  thus.  She  knew  not 
the  warmth  which  breaks  into  fire  at  some  kindly 
deed.  Cold  in  heart  was  she;  cold  as  the  icicle  that 
clings  to  the  edge  of  the  snow  bear's  cave. 

In  the  passage  of  time  the  father  and  mother  and 
the  wife  of  Idwal  closed  their  eyes  upon  this  world. 
Fifty  years  of  joy  and  sadness,  of  despair  and  hope 
had  sped  over  the  heads  of  the  sons  of  men  since 
Idwal  had  vanished  so  secretly.  Not  one  of  the  sons 
of  man  was  there  so  lofty  as  to  avoid  the  passing  of 
the  bitter  cup,  nor  was  there  one  so  humble  but  that 
he  was  at  times  able  to  spare  a  drop  from  the  cup  of 
sweetness. 

Then  came  one  cold  and  cheerless  day  in 
February ;  such  a  day  as  sees  the  trees  despair  of  life, 
and  groan  and  crack  with  the  chill  of  winter  in  their 
hearts.  The  children  of  Nant  Clwyd  saw  through 
the  windows  an  old,  white-haired  man,  thin  and  tall, 
approaching  the  farm.  With  trembling  steps  he 
drew  nearer  to  the  house.  In  appearance  he  seemed 


144  WONDER  TALES. 

a  beggar ;  and,  forsooth,  he  must  have  been  a  great 
stranger  to  those  parts,  if  he  turned  his  steps  to  Nant 
Clwyd  in  hope  of  charity!  His  clothes  lay  in 
miserable  rags  upon  his  limbs,  and  the  servants  of 
the  spindle-side  and  their  close-eyed  mistress,  after 
considering  him,  mocked  him  to  his  face.  "  Ah! 
ah!  "  they  shrilled  in  high-pitched,  woman's 
laughter,  "  the  old  Irishman!  "  And  they  said  to 
him,  "  We  are  not  at  all  surprised  to  see  a  man  of 
your  condition  walk  up  to  the  door,  and  knock  thus, 
without  ceremony." 

The  old  man  looked  at  them,  and  said  : 

' '  Where  are  my  mother,  and  my  father,  and  my 
wife?  " 

The  farmer's  wife  in  anger  bade  him  quit  the 
house  as  fast  as  he  could  go,  before  her  husband 
came  home  and  treated  him  to  the  butt-end  of  his 
whip. 

By  this  time  the  poor  ancient  looked  helpless  and 
disconcerted.  Everything  about  the  house  had 
changed.  Where  once  the  old  easy  chair  had  stood, 
there  was  now  a  couch  against  the  wall.  The  pewter 
had  gone;  but  still  there  was  sufficient  to  convince 
him  that  Nant  Clwyd  was  Nant  Clwyd.  In  a 
trembling  voice  and  quailing  manner  he  told  her  he 


IDWAL     OF     NANT     CLWYD 

"The  old  man  looked  at  them  and  said:   'Where  are  my  mother 
and  my  father  and  my  wife?'" 


IDWAL   OF   NANT    CLWYD.  145 

had  gone  out  yesterday  morning  to  hunt,  and  how  a 
heavy  sleep  had  stolen  upon  him,  so  that  he  had  even 
passed  the  night  in  the  woods. 

"  Ah!  "  replied  the  shrew,  "  I  have  heard  my 
husband  say  that  there  was  once  a  rumour  that  his 
father  was  lost  while  hunting,  and  everybody 
thought  he  had  been  killed !  ' '  Then  she  shook  with 
anger,  and  again  screamed  at  him  to  go  away. 

This  roused  the  fury  of  the  old  stranger.  He 
declared  that  Nant  Clwyd  was  his  house  and  he 
should  insist  upon  his  rights.  Then,  with  a  heavy 
crash,  the  door  was  slammed  in  his  face,  and  the  day 
seemed  colder  and  more  cheerless  than  before. 

He  turned  his  tottering  steps  towards  the  nearest 
farm,  the  homestead  of  his  friend  Caradog;  and 
there  his  eyes  fell  on  an  old,  old  man,  helpless,  and 
sitting  thoughtfully  by  the  sparkling  fire-side.  They 
talked  in  quavering  tones  about  the  youth  and  the 
days  gone  by,  and,  as  they  conversed,  those  days 
appeared  like  a  fair  summer  scene  in  a  playhouse. 
Then  the  mist  of  the  years  rolled  away,  and  each 
knew  even  as  he  was  known.  Their  trembling  old 
arms  lay  about  each  other's  neck,  and  unwonted  tears 
trickled  down  their  furrowed  cheeks.  Then  did 
Idwal  learn  his  true  position ;  and  the  poor,  old  man 

K 


146  WONDER  TALES. 

found  the  society  of  Caradog  so  kindly  that  he  did 
not  return  to  Nant  Clwyd.  A  welcome  meal  (nay, 
call  it  a  feast)  was  spread  upon  the  table,  and  all  the 
old  folk  of  the  neighbourhood  were  invited,  and 
came  crowding  to  see  the  long-lost  Idwal.  The 
evening  hours  sped  by  in  a  delightful  manner.  They 
talked  over  old  times  till  sleep  grew  more  welcome 
than  words;  and  then  the  two  old  men  withdrew  to 
share  the  same  room  and  bed,  while  silence  spread 
over  the  household. 

The  following  day,  when  all  the  others  had  come 
down,  these  two  were  so  long  in  making  their 
appearance  that  Caradog's  kinsfolk  went  up  to  call 
them  forth  to  breakfast.  Yet  no  response  was  made 
to  the  loud  rapping  on  the  bedroom  door.  Then  the 
family  passed  into  the  still  and  peaceful  room,  and 
there  upon  the  bed  the  two  old  friends  lay  quiet  and 
at  rest.  Death,  the  gentle  friend  of  the  aged,  had 
come  in  the  night,  and,  holding  a  hand  of  each,  had 
wandered  forth  with  Idwal  and  Caradog.  Yet  it 
was  often  said  in  the  neighbourhood  that  it  was  not 
Idwal  but  his  spirit  which  came  to  fetch  his  comrade, 
and  as  soon  as  Caradog  had  heard  the  message,  fain 
at  heart,  he  had  begged  the  rulers  of  the  land  of 
Spirits  that  he  might  go  forthwith  with  his  comrade, 


IDWAL   OF   NANT   CLWYD.  147 

and  thus  they  had  fared  forth  together  to  a  better 
land. 

But  this  is  quite  certain,  a  curse  fell  upon  the 
family  at  Nant  Clwyd,  yea,  even  to  the  fifth 
generation.  Do  what  they  would  everything  was  a 
failure.  Seed-time  and  harvest  brought  every  year 
their  tale  of  disaster.  It  is  true,  moreover,  that  the 
farm  was  sold  nine  times  before  the  curse  departed 
off  the  fields  that  Idwal  had  tilled,  and  from  the 
home  to  which  he  had  brought  his  young  bride.  And 
that  is  the  story  of  the  deserted  farmhouse  in  the 
valley  of  Nant  Clwyd. 


MODRED   THE   DRUID. 


blood 


ONG,  long  ago,  when  the  all-conquering 
sword  of  Rome  had  pierced  to  the 
westernmost  part  of  Britain,  staining 
the  green  fields  red  with  the  glorious 
her  defenders,  there  lived  a  Druid 
named  Modred.  Men  called  him  Modred  the  wise, 
for  he  was  known  far  and  wide  for  his  holiness,  and 
wisdom,  and  his  devotion  to  the  gods.  Yes,  indeed, 
he  was  truly  a  worthy  Druid;  but  alas!  the  times 
had  swept  evil  days  over  his  old  age,  and  from 
henceforth  his  lot  was  to  see  the  holy  altars  dripping 
with  the  blood  of  its  godly  priests,  and  the  sacred 
groves  mocked  by  the  cruel  dogs  of  war.  So  Modred 
sought  for  a  shelter  from  the  howling  tempest,  and 


MODRED  THE  DRUID.  149 

wandered  among  the  old,  grey  hills  till  he  found 
what  he  sought. 

The  shelter  he  chose  was  a  cave  placed  securely 
in  the  ample  bosom  of  a  broad  mountain-side.  A 
hidden  and  gentle  slope  led  up  to  its  entrance,  and 
so  winding  and  puzzling  was  the  path  that  the  cave 
was  unknown  to  all  save  those  whom  the  kindly  hand 
of  the  Druid  guided  to  the  secret  place.  Within 
the  cave  there  was  room  and  to  spare,  for  nature 
had  separated  it  into  several  large  divisions  where 
one  might  find  rest  and  comfort.  And  so  this  quiet, 
secluded  spot  was  a  haven  for  harmlessness  and 
virtue.  Hither  came  young  and  tender  virgins 
fleeing  from  the  passionate  soldiery.  Hither,  also, 
virtuous  women  would  flock  from  the  cruelty  of  their 
foes;  and  the  fatherless  and  widowed  came  to 
Modred's  cave  for  safety  and  solace.  Yes,  and 
hither  crept  brave  old  warriors  wounded  in  the  fray, 
bringing  their  wounds  to  Modred  to  be  healed.  He 
nursed  them  with  loving  care  and  skill  until,  restored 
and  healed,  they  departed  with  renewed  strength  to 
the  field  of  battle. 

Every  morning  and  every  evening  Modred  went 
out  from  his  cave,  and,  bending  low  in  an  attitude 
of  prayer,  poured  forth  his  worship  amidst  the  holy 


150  WONDER  TALES. 

oak-trees  in  the  grove  that  stood  in  grandeur  on  the 
slopes  of  the  mountain.  Whether  the  lofty  summits 
were  veiled  in  the  cold  grey  mist,  or  gleamed  with 
the  warm  rays  of  the  sun,  whether  the  mountain 
thrilled  with  the  song  of  a  thousand  streaming 
rivulets,  or  rose  vast  and  silent  in  a  mantle  of  silver 
snow — alike  in  all  weathers,  Modred  bent  before  his 
country's  gods.  In  the  grove  he  built  a  holy  altar, 
and,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  wise  and  learned 
who  had  gone  before  him,  he  duly  placed  upon  it  the 
sacred  offering  of  meal.  Thus  he  passed  his  days  in 
prayer,  reflection,  and  almsgiving.  He  drank  the 
water  from  a  limpid  brook  that  leaped  clear  as 
crystal  from  the  rock  where  nature  had  shaped  its 
crude  cradle.  His  food  was  the  health-giving  herbs 
that  grew  in  friendly  profusion  around  that  lonely 
abode. 

Such  was  Modred  the  Druid,  in  whose  daily  life 
and  custom  were  united  the  sinlessness  of  childhood 
and  the  wisdom  of  old  age. 

One  day  Modred  had  wandered  afar  to  seek  for 
healing  herbs.  The  sun  rode  glittering  in  a  clear, 
burnished  sky.  All  nature  stood  in  tuneful  peace. 
Suddenly,  as  he  walked,  his  eye  caught  sight  of  red 
stains  that  lay  upon  the  herbage.  As  he  went  on, 


MODRED  THE  DRUID.  151 

the  red  drops  were  spilled  more  freely,  and  his  gentle 
heart  called  him  to  follow  the  scarlet  stream  to  its 
source.  In  a  spot  tangled  with  undergrowth,  and 
hedged  round  with  thick  tendrils,  Modred  found  a 
man  in  armour  lying  stretched  upon  the  ground. 
He  seemed  to  have  swooned,  and,  as  the  aged  priest 
turned  the  limp  head  towards  him,  he  saw  that  the 
warrior  was  in  the  flower  of  youth.  His  armour 
showed  that  he  was  a  Roman,  and,  therefore,  a 
relentless  foe.  Yet  pity  for  the  sorrowful  and 
helpless  swept  through  Modred 's  heart,  causing  him 
to  forget  forthwith  the  enemies  that  spread  ruin 
and  havoc  over  the  land.  He  lifted  him  tenderly  in 
his  arms,  and  poured  a  cordial  between  the  pale 
and  parted  lips.  Then  he  gave  the  wounded  man  a 
herbal  mdicine  that  he  always  carried  with  him, 
and  of  such  restorative  power  that  a  few  drops  of  it 
seemed  to  give  new  life.  The  youth  opened  his  eyes, 
and  there  came  a  sigh  from  the  returning  spirit ;  but 
he  was  still  so  weak  and  helpless  that  he  could  not 
stand  upon  his  feet.  Modred,  seeing  that  the 
stranger  could  not  rise  without  more  help  than  he 
could  give,  hurried  back,  through  the  day's  moon- 
tide  heat,  to  his  cave,  and,  ere  long,  returned  with  a 
youth  named  Gwydyr. 


152  WONDER  TALES. 

Now  Gwydyr  was  the  bravest  of  all  the  youth  of 
Britain  who  fearlessly  bore  the  sword  to  defend  their 
freedom,  and  he  was  as  fair  to  behold  as  he  was 
brave,  for  nature  had  formed  his  body  in  wondrous 
wise,  and  thus  his  appearance  was  such  as  art  often 
refuses  to  the  work  of  her  most  ardent  disciples. 
Often  had  Gwydyr  given  proof  of  his  courage  in  the 
battles  he  had  fought  against  the  enemy.  His 
courtesy,  also,  matched  his  bravery,  and  his 
kindliness  of  heart  was  known  to  all. 

With  Gwydyr 's  help  the  wounded  Roman  youth 
was  borne  to  the  cavern;  but,  because  he  was  a 
Roman,  they  first  bandaged  his  eyes,  lest  he  might 
learn  the  approach  to  the  hiding-place  and  in  that 
way  be  the  cause  of  future  war. 

So  they  brought  him  to  the  cave,  removed  the 
bandage,  then,  unlacing  his  armour,  laid  him  upon  a 
heap  of  soft  and  yielding  moss.  Modred  gave 
careful  heed  to  the  cruel  slashes,  and  found  that 
with  care  the  youth  might  soon  be  cured.  He  soothed 
the  aching  pain  with  oil,  placed  certain  herbs  of 
unfailing  virtue  upon  the  gaping  wounds,  and  then 
stole  out,  leaving  him  to  the  gentle  care  of  soft  and 
kindly  sleep. 

When  he  returned,  after  some  lapse  of  time,  the 


MODRED  THE  DRUID.  153 

stranger  youth  was  so  recovered,  by  reason  of  the 
medicine  and  the  miraculous  power  of  sleep,  that  he 
could  ask  Modred  in  a  low  and  trembling  voice  into 
whose  hands  he  had  fallen.  Then,  indeed,  when  he 
learned  that  his  captors  were  Britons,  he  showed  by 
his  expression  that  he  had  no  hope  of  mercy  from 
them.  Modred  read  his  face  like  an  open  book,  and, 
knowing  his  thoughts,  tried  to  dispel  his  fears  and 
suspicion. 

"  Youth,"  said  he,  "  thou  art  in  the  hands  of 
those  whom  thy  nation  is  apt  to  call  wild  people. 
Yet,  though  we  are  in  truth  strangers  to  those 
marvellous  arts  that  are  practised  by  civilised 
nations  to  lay  a  fair  covering  over  the  most  wicked 
and  treacherous  intentions,  believe  me  when  I  say 
that  the  Britons  are  not  unfamiliar  with  the  virtues 
of  hospitality  and  courtesy.  Yea,  they  love  victory, 
but  they  never  rejoice  in  the  blood  of  a  fellow- 
creature.  Therefore,  brave  youth,  know  that  whilst 
thou  art  in  the  care  of  Modred,  thou  shalt  be  safe 
from  harm  and  all  unkindness." 

The  young  Roman  greatly  wondered  at  this 
unexpected  beneficence;  yet  he  could  but  think  that 
this  courteous  behaviour  was  only  to  cloak  some 
hostile  intention.  But  as  he  was  ready  with  Roman 


154  WONDER  TALES. 

courage  to  meet  his  fate  calmly  and  bravely,  whether 
it  smiled  or  frowned,  he  did  not  allow  his  surround- 
ings to  disturb  his  state  of  mind,  and  this,  of  course, 
was  the  best  way  to  re-establish  his  health  of  body. 

In  the  morning  the  Druid  saw  that  his  patient 
had  wonderfully  recovered,  so  they  talked  together. 
Modred  learned  that  the  young  Roman  was  an  officer 
in  the  invading  army,  and  that  accompanied  by  five 
soldiers  he  had  left  the  camp  about  three  days  before. 
His  aim  had  been  to  find  out  the  position  of  his  foes. 
But  his  men,  so  he  thought,  had  been  hired  by  some 
fellow-officer  who  had  long  had  a  grudge  against 
him,  and,  at  the  moment  when,  unsuspecting,  his 
back  was  turned  upon  them,  they,  like  traitors,  had 
struck  him  down,  leaving  him  as  one  who  is  dead. 
He  thanked  Modred  for  his  kindness. 

"  Ay,  aged  priest,  my  heart  goes  out  to  thee  in 
gratitude,  nor  can  I  ever  hope  to  repay  thee  for  thy 
timely  aid." 

As  he  spoke  these  words,  there  came  upon  their 
ears  a  rushing  sound  as  of  many  voices.  Modred, 
looking  wistfully  upon  the  youth,  gave  him  a  sign 
that  he  should  follow  him  in  silence  from  the  cave. 
As  they  entered  the  great  white  light  of  the  day, 
they  saw  that  a  number  of  people  of  all  ages  and 


MODRED  THE  DRUID.  155 

kinds  had  gathered  together  for  the  rites  of 
sacrifice. 

At  the  appearance  of  Modred,  a  hush  spread  over 
the  multitude — but  it  was  a  hush  that  yielded  like 
calm  upon  the  sea  before  the  lashing  tempest.  At 
the  sight  of  the  Roman  youth  a  murmur  arose,  for 
each  man  turned  to  his  neighbour  in  stern  inquiry. 
Passion  welled  forth  and  spread  hither  and  thither 
unrestrained.  "  Tear  the  accursed  foe  to  pieces!  " 
they  howled.  Then  thy  pressed  forward  up  the  dark 
slope  of  the  hoary  mountain.  Nor  did  the  gentle 
aspect  of  Modred  check  them;  and  tragedy  gazed 
out  from  behind  her  mask.  Yet  they  stayed  as 
Modred  raised  his  aged  arm  and  looked  for  silence. 

"  Brothers,  sisters,"  he  exclaimed,  "  have  I  so 
long  served  you  that  you  thus  invade  my  habitation  ? 
Is  the  oil  of  anointing  that  I  have  poured  into  your 
wounds  to  be  paid  for  in  the  warm  red  blood  of  my 
guest  ?  Is  that  your  gratitude  to  your  aged  priest  ? 
Is  that  your  love  for  your  country's  religion?  " 

Thus  Modred  was  winning  them,  but  an  evil- 
faced  old  woman  on  the  outskirts  of  the  crown 
screamed,  "  Down  with  the  accursed  foes  who  tear 
our  children  from  our  breasts  and  spill  the  fathers' 
blood  upon  the  threshold.  On,  then,  ye  cravens  and 


156  WONDER  TALES. 

kill !  Ay,  and  if  need  be,  arise  and  slay  the  babbling 
old  priest.  The  gods  of  Britain  await  the  victim  ye 
shall  offer." 

Then  a  groan  of  bitterness  spread  over  the 
assembly,  like  the  low  moaning  that  passes  through 
the  swaying  tops  of  the  oak-trees  when  the  storm 
comes  from  the  west.  Again  the  men,  howling 
fiercely  their  hatred,  moved  forward,  and  Modred 
knew  he  could  not  stay  them.  Nor  could  Gwydyr, 
eager  though  he  was  to  save  Modred 's  guest.  He 
was  brushed  aside  in  the  pathway  as  a  stone  is  swept 
away  by  the  rushing  of  the  winter's  snow  when  it 
seeks  the  valley. 

Then  came  a  sudden  and  wondrous  hush  over  all 
the  mountain-side.  Morfudd,  sister  of  Gwydyr, 
lovely  and  pure  as  he  was  brave  and  handsome,  came 
slowly  down  the  pathway  from  the  mountain-top. 
The  trembling  rays  of  the  morning  sun  fell  upon 
her  snow-white  garments.  The  breeze  lifted  very 
gently  her  blue-black  hair  as  it  streamed  around  her 
shoulders,  and  her  throat  was  white  as  the  flowers 
she  carried  in  her  hands. 

"  Lo!  "  the  people  cried.  "  Lo!  the  virgin  of 
the  sacrifice,"  and  they  knelt  upon  the  soil.  And 
Morfudd  came  gently  down  the  pathway,  and,  as 


MODRED  THE  DRUID.  157 

she  advanced,  she  sang  with  a  sweet  voice  like  a 
bird  singing  its  first  love  song  in  the  groves  at 
springtide : 

"  Amid  the  silvery  moonlight, 

With  golden  sickle  free, 

A  virgin  pure  and  sinless, 

I  cut  thee  from  thy  tree. 

0  vervain,  fair  and  holy, 

I  wreathe  thee  in  my  hands, 

As  white,  and  pure,  and  spotless 
As  are  thy  sacred  strands. 

And  now  in  love  I  cast  thee, 
Fair  pledge  of  heavenly  peace, 
Upon  this  wounded  warrior 
That  enmity  may  cease." 

Long  years  after,  three  people  stood  by  the  Cave 
of  Modred,  and  they  placed  vervain  upon  the  little 
heap  of  stones  that  stood  at  its  entrance,  while  at  a 
distance  four  boys  and  two  young  girls  watched  the 
older  folk. 

"  Why  do  they  do  that?  "  asked  a  tiny,  black- 
haired  maiden.  "  Why  do  father  and  mother  and 
our  uncle  Gwydyr  look  so  sad  ?  " 

And  the  eldest  son  of  the  Roman  youth  and 
Morfudd  answered : 

"  Because  that  is  the  grave  of  Modred  the 
Druid." 


EINON  AND   OLWEN. 

N  the  slopes  of  the  beautiful  valley  of 
Rhondda-wen,  there  lived  many 
years  ago  a  family  who  were  as  fair  as 
the  fairness  of  the  spring  dawn  when 
the  lingering  snows  fondle  the  distant  hill-tops. 
Gentle  and  kindly  were  they ;  so  gentle  and  so  kindly, 
indeed,  that  even  the  swift  swallows  stayed  to  twitter 
around  them,  and  the  flowers  waved  softly  as  they 
passed.  The  family  was  for  generations  called  the 
Fair  Family.  Would  you  like  to  know  why  ?  Bead 
this  story  and  you  will  understand. 

Once  upon  a  time,  long  years  ago,  a  shepherd  boy 
called  Einon  went  out  with  his  sheep  upon  the 
mountains.  While  he  was  there  a  dense  mist 


EINON   AND   OLWEN.  159 

tumbled  out  of  the  sky,  and  fell  like  a  great  curtain 
upon  the  hills  and  valleys,  so  that  before  long  the 
boy  had  lost  his  way,  and  was  separated  from  his 
sheep.  He  wandered  on  and  on  until  he  came  to  a 
low-lying  valley,  damp,  and  overgrown  with  long 
green  rushes  which  formed  strange  circles.  When 
the  shepherd  lad  saw  these  rings,  he  remembered 
that  people  had  told  him  about  them,  and  the  fairies 
who  danced  in  and  out,  along  the  marsh.  So  he 
hurried  away  as  fast  as  he  could  run  to  avoid  meeting 
any  of  these  creatures;  and  he  ran  till  the  sweat 
rolled  down  his  face  and  his  breath  came  in  choking 
sobs.  But  run  as  he  would  his  feet  seemed  to  make 
hardly  any  progress.  His  heart  sank  with  despair. 

Just  then  there  came  out  of  the  mist,  and  from 
among  the  dank  rushes,  a  small  old  man.  At  least, 
he  seemed  to  be  extremely  old,  yet  his  eyes  were  very 
merry  and  wonderfully  blue. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  my  boy?  "  said  he. 

"I'm  trying  to  find  my  way  out  of  the  valley 
because  of  the  fairies,"  answered  the  lad. 

"  Oh !  "  said  the  old  man,  "  you  had  better  come 
with  me,  then;  but  come  very  silently,  and  pray 
don't  speak  a  word  until  I  say  that  you  may  do  so." 

So  the  shepherd  boy  followed  his  guide  over 


160  WONDER  TALES. 

craggy  paths  and  through  tangles  of  bushes,  till  at 
last  they  reached  a  large  stone  which  stood  upright 
in  the  ground.  The  old  man  tapped  three  times  on 
this  stone,  and  then,  putting  his  wrinkled  hand  upon 
it,  pushed  it  back,  and  lo!  before  their  very  eyes 
opened  a  long,  narrow  passage,  dipping  down 
beneath  the  earth,  and  broken,  every  now  and  again, 
by  little  flights  of  stairs.  And  the  wonder  of  it  was 
that  a  grey  light  seemed  to  pour  out  of  the  stone 
walls  and  roof,  and  thus  one  could  see  quite  plainly. 

"Follow  me,"  quoth  the  old  man.  "Fear 
nothing,  for  no  harm  shall  come  to  you." 

The  shepherd  boy  did  not  like  to  refuse,  so  he 
followed  his  nose,  more  like  a  dog  going  to  be 
hanged  than  after  the  manner  of  a  merry-hearted 
boy. 

But  soon  he  forgot  his  fears.  A  lovely  country- 
side, filled  with  the  flashing  light  of  the  sun,  and 
decked  with  green  trees  spangled  with  golden  fruit 
spread  before  him.  Winding  rivers  gleamed  in  the 
sunshine,  and  on  the  rich  slopes  of  the  verdant  hills 
stood  many  a  magnificent  palace  wrought  wonder- 
fully of  white  stone  which  dazzled  the  sight. 
Through  the  verdure  babbled  noisy  little  brooks, 
dancing  in  glee  round  the  soft-moulded  hills.  Birds 


EINON   AND   OLWEN.  161 

with  gorgeous  plumage  flitted  by  like  fleeting  rain- 
bows, and  the  bushes  were  decked  with  the 
brightness  of  a  thousand  lovely  blossoms.  The  boy 
walked  in  silence,  dumb  with  the  sense  of  loveliness 
that  stole  over  his  nature.  Then  the  scene  changed. 
Gold  and  silver  veins  lay  about  the  hills  and  rocks 
like  sunbeams  darting  over  the  surface  of  a  lake. 
Wonderful  music  from  myriad  instruments  came 
wafted  on  the  breeze.  Yet  he  could  see  no  one  but 
his  old,  old  guide. 

Soon  they  sat  down  at  a  table  spread  with  a 
banquet  more  than  fit  for  a  king.  Course  after 
course  came  unbidden,  carried  by  unseen  hands; 
and,  when  they  had  eaten,  then  the  dishes  of  their 
own  accord  passed  away  before  their  sight.  Round 
about  the  shepherd  boy  stole  sweet  murmurings. 
Soft  whispers  fell  on  his  ears;  gentle  voices  called 
him ;  but,  look  as  he  might,  he  could  see  no  one. 

At  last  the  old  man  spoke. 

"  Speak  as  much  as  ever  you  wish,"  said  he. 
"  There's  no  need  for  silence  now.55 

Then  to  the  boy's  wonder  and  alarm  he  realised 
that  he  could  not  speak.  His  tongue  seemed  to  lie 
in  his  mouth  like  an  icicle,  so  hard  and  so  cold  it  had 
become.  His  panic  increased  and  he  knew  not  what 

L 


162  WONDER  TALES. 

to  do — when,  all  at  once,  there  appeared  (whence  he 
could  not  tell)  a  plump  old  woman  with  cheeks  like 
rosy  apples,  and  she  smiled  gently  at  the  lad. 
Behind  her  stole  three  fair  maidens,  loveliest  of  the 
lovely,  and  still  more  lovely.  Their  fair  skin  was 
like  the  hawthorn  for  its  whiteness,  and  the  rose  for 
its  warmth.  Long  golden  hair  streamed  over  their 
shoulders,  falling  in  ringlets  round  their  waists. 
They  glanced  half  playfully  at  the  wondering  youth, 
and  he  longed  to  speak  to  them;  but  he  could  not. 
His  lips  and  tongue  refused  to  move.  Then  one  of 
the  maidens  came  coyly  towards  him,  twisting  her 
fair  curls  about  her  white  fingers,  and  glancing 
downward  with  her  tender  eyes.  Lifting  her  warm 
red  lips  she  imprinted  their  glow  upon  the  lad's 
chill  mouth,  and  at  once  his  ice-cold  tongue  grew 
soft  and  yielding,  just  as  the  kiss  of  spring  sets  free 
the  ice-bound  streams  of  the  mountain-side. 

Under  the  spell  of  her  kiss  he  seemed  to  live  in  a 
glorious  paradise.  He  spoke  freely  and  with 
joyousness.  His  fear  fell  from  him  like  a  garment, 
and  he  paid  no  heed  to  time.  The  days  slipped  by 
till  a  year  and  a  day  had  passed,  only,  to  the 
shepherd  lad,  the  time  seemed  to  be  but  one  day, 
fair  and  bright  with  never  a  cloud.  At  last  came 


EINON   AND   OLWEN.  163 

the  remembrance  of  his  home,  and,  as  the  thought 
came  to  him,  hiraeth  stirred  in  his  breast — that  pain 
which  clutches  the  heart  when  one  is  far  away  from 
the  dear  old  home  of  one's  childhood.  He  ran  to 
the  old  man,  and,  thanking  him  earnestly  for  all  his 
kindness,  begged  that  he  might  go  and  visit  his 
friends  once  again. 

"  Wait  a  spell,"  he  answered,  "  and  you  shall 

go." 

And  so  it  happened.  But  when  the  lad  came  to 
the  moment  of  his  departure,  Olwen  (for  that  was 
the  name  of  the  maiden  who  kissed  him)  was  sad  at 
heart.  Tear-drops  stood  in  her  soft,  blue  eyes,  and 
her  lips  trembled;  and  Einon's  heart  grew  cold 
within  him  at  the  thought  of  saying  good-bye  to  her. 

Still  he  felt  he  must  go,  so  they  gave  him  gold 
and  silver,  rich  jewels  without  number,  and  he  made 
his  journey  to  his  long-lost  home.  In  great  glee  he 
came  to  his  native  village,  thinking  of  the  welcome 
he  would  receive;  but,  sad  to  tell,  people  looked  at 
him  and  wondered  who  he  was. 

"  That,  the  shepherd  lad  who  was  killed  by  his 
mate  on  the  mountain-side!  Why  he's  not  in  the 
least  like  him.  Besides,  the  other  shepherd  fled 
because  he  had  killed  him." 


164  WONDER  TALES. 

Even  his  own  father  and  mother  did  not 
remember  him.  Nor  was  this  to  be  wondered  at,  for 
Einon  had  gone  away  just  a  poorly  clad  shepherd 
boy,  but  now  he  stood  among  them  dressed  in  rich 
apparel,  splendid  in  manner  and  speech,  and 
possessed  of  riches  untold. 

"  'Tis  some  strange  and  noble  lord,"  they  said; 
"  Einon  was  poor." 

Well,  Einon  dwelt  with  his  people  till  he  felt  his 
heart  yearning  for  the  tender  glancs  of  Olwen,  and 
one  Thursday  night  when  the  silver  moon  was  full, 
and  flooding  the  deep  blue  sky,  he  stole  away  again, 
none  knowing  whither  he  had  gone. 

Great  was  the  rejoicing  in  the  underworld  when 
Einon  came  back,  and  none  was  more  blithe  than 
Olwen.  The  absence  had  made  their  hearts  more 
loving,  and  they  longed  to  be  married  that  they 
might  never  be  separated  again.  This  was  a  great 
difficulty,  for  in  the  underworld  nothing  was  more 
disliked  than  noise  and  confusion.  At  last,  however, 
as  it  were  half  secretly,  and  in  great  peacefulness, 
Einon  and  Olwen  were  united,  and  in  perfect 
happiness  they  lived  together  in  the  silent,  gleaming 
underworld. 

Then,  some  time  after,  once  again,  there  came 


EINON     AND     OLWEN 

"They  gave  him  gold  and  silver,   rich  jewels  without  number. 


EINON   AND   OLWEN.  165 

that  stirring  wish  in  Einon's  heart — the  call  of  home 
came  over  the  silence,  and  through  the  gleam;  and 
he  felt  he  must  obey  the  call.  With  great  difficulty, 
and  many  earnest  words,  he  won  the  permission  of 
the  old  and  merry-eyed  man.  He  was  allowed  to 
carry  his  fair  bride  with  him.  When  all  was  ready 
the  merry-eyed  old  man  led  forward  two  white  mules. 
Indeed  they  were  so  white  that  in  hue  they  were 
more  like  snow  that  anything  else,  and  on  these  lovely 
creatures  Einon  and  Olwen  came  to  the  old  home. 

Much  as  the  people  admired  the  grandeur  of 
Einon  they  were  even  more  struck  with  the  beauty  of 
Olwen. 

"  Never  before  was  there  such  beauty  on  earth," 
said  one. 

"  The  sun  never  looked  down  on  such  loveliness," 
exclaimed  another. 

And  every  one  paid  tribute  to  her  wonderful  and 
shapely  form. 

Time  passed  by  and  a  child  was  born  to  the  happy 
pair,  and  they  called  him  Taliesin.  The  whole 
village,  yea,  indeed  all  the  other  villages  round 
about,  reverenced  Einon  and  Olwen,  for  their  riches 
were  immense  and  their  heritage  was  truly 
marvellous.  But  there  was  one  thing  which  cast  a 


166  WONDER  TALES. 

shadow.     About  this  time  people  thought  that  they 
would  like  to  know  the  descent  of  Einon's  wife. 

'  Whose  daughter  is  she?  "  said  they.     "  It  is 
only  right  that  every  one  should  have  a  family  tree." 

So  they  came  to  Einon  and  asked  him  who  his 
wife  was;  but  Einon  would  not  say. 

"  Then,"  quoth  an  old  wiseacre,  "  she  must  be 
one  of  the  Fair  Family."  (Tylwyth  Teg.) 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  Einon.  "  There  is  no 
question  about  that.  She  is  of  a  very  fair  family. 
She  has  two  sisters  even  more  fair  than  she.  To  see 
them  together,  in  the  open  day,  is  to  see  the 
sunshine  ripple  over  the  cornfield,  and  the  blushing 
blossoms  of  spring  leap  at  once  from  the  pure  winter 
snow.  If  you  but  saw  them,  you  would  say  they 
were  indeed  a  fair  family !  ' ' 

So  spake  Einon,  and  from  that  day  the  wonder- 
ful family  was  called  "  The  Fair  Family." 


THE  END. 


O 


ro  .       x'"""*^^    "^         tl^ 

IV£)I  i 


!>&jUMj8iH*v 


^ 


^UIBRAKYC//  Vrtt  t'NIVW/4  ,ssl 


JlTiiJU 


'  OJI1 


5      sts^S    I 

1      i^1^^!    S 
I 


i  >-<    5  o  i  r-i  §  o  »>  j  I    3 

1 5  s;j|  ig    s^-Jc/i  ^ 

^iJONY-Sm^ 


I  1 

-^ 


>        ^ 

I    s 


^     J>o(  S<         2  V^yV  ^     ?  V*3"/  v  § 

^fiiAlNO-lV^  ^//OJIlVO-jO^       %/Oi!lV3-jO^ 


' 


Is 


ft!  I 


t     * 

i 
> 


s 


1  I 
i  I 


'-  I 

s 


.MU-UMYIIO/A 


007  830  803  8 


\  i?a 


£  I 
1  5 


g     I 


\    M 
i    § 


I    n 


S 

= 


>      *c> 


e    § 
I    S 


^OF-CA1IFO% 


